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“ EACH TIME HE WITHDREW THE STICK, THE BEAST GAINED AN 

INCH OR TWO,” 





ALONG THE 
MOHAWK TRAIL 

OR 

Boy Scouts on Lake Champlain 

BY 

PERCY K. FITZHUGH 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
REMINGTON SCHUYLER 


NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


iv CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. In Hoc Signo Vinces 214 

XVIII. At the Finish Line ' 251 

XIX. The Fate of the Blue Sweaters . 271 

XX. Gordon Goes up in the Air — Also 

Harry 285 

XXL Making the Glider 302 

XXIL Harry Finds a Way 322 

XXIIL History Repeats Itself . . . .351 

XXIV. Mr. Danforth has His Way . . . 370 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ Each time he withdrew the stick, the 

BEAST GAINED AN INCH OR TWO '' Frontispiece ^ 


OPPOSITE 

PAGE 

Map of the “ Haystack ” i ^ 

“ ' Hello, what are you doing? * ” . . . . io8 


“ ‘ I NEVER IN MY LIFe! ’ SHE EXCLAIMED . . 2101^ 

'' He leaned over and seized the sinking 

FIGURE BY THE COLLAR ” 35© ^ 


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Along the Mohawk Trail 


CHAPTER I 

THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK 

Gordon Lord flung his duffel bag into the bench 
on the station platform and, casting himself pre- 
cipitately beside it, smiled the smile of the Scouts. 
It was the genuine, original, warranted scout smile, 
done to perfection. It had often been remarked of 
Gordon that when he smiled his lips formed a per- 
fect crescent, so that if the words ‘‘ Be Prepared ” 
had been printed on his white, even teeth, the effect 
would have been perfectly natural. Moreover, it 
was somewhat to his credit that he smiled on the 
present occasion, for several commuters who were 
in the same predicament as himself stalked up and 
down the platform in anything but an amiable 
humor. One of them was muttering unflattering 
comments on his chauffeur; another was looking 
scornfully at the gold watch which had deceived 
him ; two others were discussing the dilatory habits 
of domestic servants ; and the rest were denouncing 
the railroad. 

I 


2 


^OY SCOUTS 


Only Gordon Lord smiled — and swung his legs 
back and forth, and smiled more and more. He 
had made a great sprint down the hill, to no avail, 
and now, as he sat on the bench pulling up his 
stocking, which had treacherously worked its way 
down his leg in the course of his rapid progress, an 
amusing question presented itself to his original 
mind; and he resolved then and there to confound 
Red Deer with it, so soon as he should set eyes on 
that individual. As every scout in good standing 
knows, it is his duty to he prepared, to be on hand 
when he is supposed to be on hand, and to be on 
time always. But it is also his avowed obligation 
to do a good turn every day — one good turn, at 
least. Paragraph 3, Scout's Law, sets these require- 
ments forth clearly. 

And here was Gordon Lord, scout of the second 
class, who had stopped to do a good turn and as a 
direct consequence had failed to be prepared. He 
could not do the good turn and be prepared both; 
which should he have done? The scout smile 
broadened as he pondered over this. Here would be 
a poser for Red Deer. He loved to ask Red Deer 
such questions as this ; it was as good as a circus to 
hear the two of them engaged in a learned discus- 
sion on the technicalities of Scout Law. And Red 
Deer (who was scout-master of the Oak wood 
troop) enjoyed it immensely. 

But now Gordon realized that Red Deer and both 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


3 


patrols, the Beavers and the Hawks, were gliding 
merrily into the city to catch the Montreal express. 

Twenty minutes before his spectacular arrival at 
the station (one minute after the train had left), he 
had started from home at “ scout pace ” — not be- 
cause this was necessary, but because it was “ scout- 
ish ” and Gordon was nothing if not thorough. He 
wore his complete scout outfit ; khaki hat, neckerchief 
showing the Beaver hues (blue and yellow), knotted 
in the celebrated Beaver knot of his own invention, 
which had been unanimously adopted by the patrol 
with a vote of thanks to the inventor. No one but 
a Beaver could imtie the knot except Master Gor- 
don’s mother, who had laboriously discovered the 
combination one evening when the young Beaver 
had relieved himself of the scarf by lifting it over 
his head. His shirt was of a rich, olive-colored 
flannel, his loose short breeches of khaki, and his 
khaki-colored stockings were turned over his garters 
below the knee, whence one or other of them was 
continually slipping down. He carried his duffel 
bag on the end of his staff like a peddler with his 
pack, and as he went down the wide, tree-bordered 
street of the fashionable suburb of Oakwood, his 
popularity was attested by many a cheery call or 
farewell wish from the lawns and porches that he 
passed. 

He was a picturesque figure that early summer 
morning as he started for the station. He was 


4 


BOY SCOUTS 


small and lithe in stature, rather too short for his 
fourteen years; his complexion was almost of a 
mulatto brown, and his brown eyes held a kind of 
dancing mischief. Long before he had entered the 
scout ranks he was remarked by all as an exceed- 
ingly attractive boy, and it needed only the uniform 
on his compact, active little figure to complete an 
altogether quaint and charming impression. 

Thus he sallied gayly down the hill, past the big 
family mansion of the Arnolds, and was just turn- 
ing into the little village park when he came in sight 
of Miss Leslie, who was in the midst of an exas- 
perating dilemma. Miss Leslie taught in the Oak- 
wood school, and had taught Master Gordon a year 
or two before. She was at present trying to carry 
eight rather thick books, which is a very good thing 
to do when viewed in the light of calisthenics. For 
it is easier to read eight books than to carry them 
unless you have a strap or a satchel, and Miss Leslie 
had nothing but her small white hands. 

When Gordon first caught sight of her, his trained 
scout vision showed him that four books were in 
Miss Leslie’s arm and four on the sidewalk. She 
stooped, picked up two and dropped three. She 
then picked up one and dropped another. Then she 
picked up two. Then she picked up another one. 
As she stooped for the last one she dropped three. 
Matters were about even; at least, she was holding 
her own. She picked up two more and dropped 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


S 


one. She was one ahead. Encouraged by her suc- 
cess, she made a bold descent for the remaining 
three, secured two of them and dropped four. The 
sidewalk had a majority. Miss Leslie glanced cov- 
ertly up to see if any one were watching. Not see- 
ing the scout as he neared, she cautiously gathered 
the three books from the sidewalk and for one short, 
thrilling second held the entire eight under her arm. 
Then a trifling accident marred her triumph — she 
dropped one book. With great caution she stooped 
slowly, grasped the recreant volume, arose victori- 
ous, holding it tightly while — the other seven tum- 
bled to the ground. 

‘‘ Hello, Miss Leslie,” said the young scout. 

Miss Leslie, clutching one volume, stood van- 
quished and humiliated in the midst of the other 
seven, and contemplated her former pupil with 
mingled surprise and embarrassment. 

‘‘ Don’t try to pick them up,” said Gordon ; let 
me show you something.” 

He took the volume which she held and, laying 
it on the sidewalk, picked up another volume and 
slipped the front cover of this underneath the cover 
of the first one. Then he placed the cover of an- 
other one underneath the back cover of the second, 
and so on until he had piled the whole rebellious as- 
sortment and effectually locked them together. 

There you are,” said he, and by way of demon- 
strating the reliability of the pile, he balanced it on 


6 


iBOY SCOUTS 


his hand, allowing it to incline this way and that like 
the Leaning Tower. The books held fast as if they 
were glued together. 

‘‘ Did you ever in your life? ” said Miss Leslie, in 
complimentary astonishment at this sleight-of-hand 
performance, and trying to take the books from him. 

‘‘ There are tricks in every trade,’’ said Gordon. 

‘‘ And you know them all,” she answered in gen- 
uine admiration. 

But they’re just as heavy as they were before,” 
he remarked ; I’ll carry them for you as far as the 
school.” 

Her protests were useless, for possession is nine 
points of the law, and Gordon held the pile of books. 
So they went along together toward the school build- 
ing, which was not at all in line with the station, he 
talking volubly all the way. 

“ I think you are the boy who once opened a bot- 
tle of camphor for me in the school room by means 
of a piece of string,” she remarked. 

‘‘ That’s nothing,” said Gordon, who loved to im- 
part information. “ Do you know how to open 
bureau drawers that stick ? ” 

Indeed, I wish I did,” she answered, smiling. 

“Lay a heavy stick on the floor in front of the 
bureau and hit it a good hard whack with a hammer ; 
if you haven’t a stick, just pound the floor.” 

“ Really?” 

“ Honest.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


7 


‘‘ Well, that is certainly worth knowing.” 

** That’s nothing — did you know you can make 
dandy ink out of typewriter ribbons ? ” 

“ The idea!” 

That’s how I got this suit — asked the stenogra- 
phers in my father’s office to save me their old type- 
writer ribbons, made ink and sold it ; it’s better than 
other ink.” 

“ And is that your scout suit ? I heard the boys 
were starting for camp to-day.” 

“Who told you?” 

“ I think it was Dr. Brent.” 

“ He’s Red Deer ; he’s going with us.” 

“ And how do you manage to pack so many things 
in there ? ” said she, patting his thick, curly hair. 

“ Oh, there isn’t so much in it,” he answered ; “ a 
couple of apples, pair of heavy shoes, a shirt — ” 

“ What?” 

“ Want to look inside? ” he asked, laying the pile 
of books down and releasing his duffel bag from 
the end of his staff. 

“ Oh, no, I meant inside your head,” said she, 
laughing; “but here we are; I shall remember the 
things you have told me. Good-by, and I hope your 
kindness to me will not have made you late for the 
train.” 

She stood on the school steps (it was the last day 
of the spring term) watching him as he walked 
gayly down the street, his khaki hat on the back of 


8 


BOY SCOUTS 


his round head, and his duffel bag on the end of his 
scout’s staff. She heard a man across the street call 
cheerily to him that he had only two minutes to 
catch the train, and she distinctly heard him answer, 
“ That’s nothing,” and saw him start to run down 
the hill toward Oakwood station. 

But it proved to be a great deal, despite the boy’s 
laconic comment. Indeed, it is to be seriously ques- 
tioned whether missing a train ever before had such 
a variety of delectable consequences. 

So there he sat where we first saw him, on the 
station bench, and thought of the two patrols in 
charge of Red Deer which were already on their way 
to the Adirondacks. They knew that he had had a 
bad headache the day before, and they would doubt- 
less assume that to be the cause of his non-appear- 
ance. He pictured their gay trip up the shore of the 
lordly Hudson, their luncheon at Albany, their leav- 
ing the train at Ticonderoga and tramping forth in 
quest of a suitable camp. But whether they would 
settle north or south or west of Ticonderoga, he did 
not know. They would pitch their tents this very 
night somewhere along the shore of that watery 
serpent. Lake Champlain, but exactly where Red 
Deer would lead them would depend largely on in- 
formation gathered en route. 

He wondered what Arnold would think of him. 
Those had been fine plans that he and Arnold had 
made for hanging together and testing their new 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


9 


signal system, and tracking and stalking in each 
other’s company. It was Harry Arnold who had 
brought Gordon into the troop as a tenderfoot, and 
it had been a great discovery for the elder boy. It 
had also opened up a field for Master Gordon which 
belittled his fondest dreams. For even before the 
organization came into existence he was, in all es- 
sential particulars, a thorough, out-and-out Boy 
Scout. And indeed, it might reasonably have 
seemed to him that the local troop had been organ- 
ized in order to afford a wider scope for the ex- 
ploitation of his particular accomplishments. 

His laconic phrase of ‘‘ That’s nothing,” when 
confronted with difficulties, had come to be a famil- 
iar quotation among his intimates, and he retained 
the expression after he blossomed forth with his 
staff and badge and khaki attire. He could shoot a 
curve with a marble ; he could tell in which direction 
a bicycle had gone by its track; he was a master 
worker in birch bark; he could make washers and 
other useful articles of hardware by the aid of the 
railroad track ; he could kindle an open air fire in a 
pelting rain; he was the sole inventor of the cele- 
brated suction-pad for walking on narrow cliffs and 
ledges; and he had memorized the Oakwood fire- 
signal system. 

A whistle had been recently installed on the Town 
House, which uttered an unearthly din whenever 
there was a fire in town. If it rang ten it meant 


lO 


!BOY SCOUTS 


one locality; if it rang fifteen it meant another, and 
thus every street and corner of the town was pro- 
vided for. Whenever the whistle blew, there was 
frantic hunting in every Oakwood home for the card 
which showed the various locality calls. Of course, 
it is absolutely important that a boy shall attend 
a fire, and Gordon at once realized that to memorize 
the entire system would enable him always to be first 
on the scene. Hence, if he happened to be walking 
along the street and heard the screech of the whistle 
sounding 57,^e knew at once in which direction to 
go, and it was not uncommon for him to be waiting 
for the firemen to point them out the house. Also 
in school when the lessons were interrupted by the 
whistle’s ominous sound, the teacher, after fumbling 
in her desk in a vain quest for the elusive card, 
would say, ‘‘ Perhaps Master Gordon can tell us 
and Master Gordon would promptly answer, ‘‘ Elm 
St. near Park Place.” 

He knew the number of paving stones between his 
home and the corner ; he knew how to locate a base- 
ball in a drain pipe ; he could look at a kite caught on 
a telegraph wire and tell you approximately where 
the flier of the kite had stood when the mishap oc- 
curred; he knew just how far it was to the Guild 
Room, to the church, to the public library. He loved 
such little tidbits of information for their own sake, 
and like all wide-awake boys, he had a habit of find- 
ing things. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


II 


You will see that here was the material for an A-i 
scout, and when I add that Master Gordon’s only 
vice (if you call it a vice) was an unconquerable and 
excessive fondness for apples, you will know enough 
of his character to last you for a chapter or two. 

After the first excitement of missing the train 
had passed and he had smiled the matter off, scout 
fashion, he opened his duffel bag and sought con- 
solation in a gigantic and mellow specimen of his 
favorite fruit. Then he rose and retraced his steps 
up the hill. There on the summit stood the fine, old- 
fashioned mansion of the Arnolds, and beyond it a 
hundred yards or so the more modern residence of 
the Lord family, standing well back upon its spa- 
cious, well-kept lawn. 

There was not a soul stirring about the Arnold 
place, and as he passed it he thought again of the 
boy whose particular companion he had meant to be. 
He had a great admiration for Harry Arnold, and 
Harry, though he jollied the younger boy and called 
him Kid,” was quite under the spell of his young 
friend and protege. 

Surely they would write to him and tell him 
where they were and how to get to them; Arnold 
would attend to that. But perhaps Arnold did not 
care so much, after all. He knew he furnished a 
good deal of amusement to his friend, but whether 
Arnold really cared enough — no, very likely he 
didn’t. They would all say it was his business to 


12 


BOY SCOUTS 


be prepared — to be on hand ; Arnold would be the 
first to say that. 

So Master Gordon Lord walked slowly up the 
quiet, suburban street until the roof of his own home 
was visible through the trees. He had finished his 
apple, and he now sent the core spluttering against 
a tree. The scout smile had gone under a cloud for 
the time being, for the boy now began to realize the 
extent of his disappointment. There was not an- 
other boy in sight. Ordinarily Arnold would have 
been mowing the lawn or attending to some other 
outdoor work about the place at this time ; but there 
was no Arnold in sight now, and he seemed doubly 
absent because Gordon knew where he had gone. 
Then his disappointment began to take the form of 
anger, and even his anger was not well-directed, for 
it included the very boy who had made him a scout 
and who had helped him into the second class. But 
the thought that both patrols would soon be rushing 
gayly up the Hudson while he trudged homeward in 
an almost boyless Oakwood was too much for him, 
and he sat down on a rock along the stretch of road 
between his own home and the Arnold house and 
blamed them all and told himself that Arnold was a 
‘Hobstereen ’’ — whatever may be the meaning of 
that dreadful appellation. 

Now there are many ways in which a man may 
afford a vent to his anger, but the very best way for 
a boy to do so and by far the most satisfactory is to 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


13 


choose a suitable target at an appropriate distance 
and to sit down on a rock or log and proceed to pelt 
it with stones. For with every cast of a missile 
goes a certain quantity of the unwholesome spirit 
till it has all been dissipated in the free air. The 
first stone is usually thrown in wrath, the next sev- 
eral in a kind of sullen carelessness, and lo, the 
marksman presently finds himself captured by the 
sporting instinct and aims, calmly and cheerfully, at 
his target with no feeling but the sportsmanlike de- 
sire to hit the mark. This method is strongly 
recommended to boys and its effects will be found to 
be immediate and magic. 

On the present occasion Gordon Lord passed 
quickly through the wrathful and sullen stages and 
rose with characteristic determination and a sure 
aim. You cannot aim true when you are angry, 
and at the present moment Gordon cared more about 
hitting the mark than about anything else. Pres- 
ently the stone sped from his hand and went bang- 
ing against the slender tree. 

‘‘ Good shot ! ” he heard a cheery voice call. 

Gordon turned, and there, as sure as you live,, 
stood Arnold. 

There was no doubt about it. There was the blue 
flannel shirt with the double row of pearl buttons. 
There was the thin book-strap for a belt, and there 
was the full scout’s badge, not on his sleeve, but on 
the front of his hat. There was the seamanship 


H 


[BOY SCOUTS 


badge on his right arm. There was the Beaver 
neckerchief tied in the celebrated Beaver knot. 
There was the leather wristlet. It was Arnold, all 
right. 

“ H-hello, Harry,” gasped Gordon ; what — 
where did you come from ? ” 

“ Where did I come from ? Why, from the sta- 
tion — on a fool hunt after you. What are you 
doing here, anyway ? ” 

Just throwing stones.” 

Do you know you’ve missed the train ? ” 

“ I knew that fifteen minutes ago.” 

“ Well, you’re a — ” 

‘‘ No, I’m not, Harry, — now just hold on a min- 
ute, — I started down — ” 

‘‘ Yes,” said Arnold, crossly, ** and I waited till 
five minutes before train time, then cut up through 
the fields to your house.” 

“If you’d only come up by the park, you’d have 
seen me showing Miss Leslie — honest, Harry, you 
ought to have been there. She was trying to juggle 
eight books down to school and most of them were 
on the sidewalk. So there was the chance for your 
Uncle Gordon. I happened to know a trick — ” 

“ I know,” interrupted Arnold, smiling in spite of 
himself, “ you showed her a way.” 

“ Right.” 

“ Did a good turn.” 

“ Right for Harry.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


IS 

‘‘ And missed the train.’’ 

Correct.” 

Gordon took a careful aim and sent another stone 
to the mark. 

‘‘And you did a good turn, too, Harry; a bully 
one, coming to find me. You’ve started the day 
fine.”^ 

“Yes, we’ve made a grand starter,” said Arnold, 
as they sauntered toward his home. “ We’re a 
couple of A- 1 scouts — not. The whole troop will 
be laughing at us.” 

“ But remember the good turns, Harry.” 

“ I don’t see us doing any stalking together,” was 
the reply. 

“ Do you know how I fixed those books for her, 
Harry?” 

“ No, and I don’t want to know.” 

They walked on in silence to the Arnold place, and 
Gordon followed his somewhat disgruntled friend 
to the latter’s room. It was familiar ground to him, 
for much of their planning and preparation had 
taken place in it, and now he threw himself into the 
comfortable recess of a Morris chair and tactfully 
awaited some sign of improvement in his compan- 
ion’s humor. Meanwhile, Harry made a tour 
around his well-filled apartment, rearranging things 
and collecting the boyish litter, by way of affording 
a vent to his mood. He took a canoe paddle from 
one corner and placed it in another. He straight- 


i6 


BOY SCOUTS 


ened his school diploma on the wall. His manner 
was anything but cordial, and Gordon watched him 
with a twinkle in his eye but did not venture a re- 
mark. 

‘‘There’s the blazing system,” grunted Harry, 
throwing a paper over to the bed. “ A lot of good 
it’ll do us now.” 

He hammered a nail in the wall and hung a pair 
of moccasins on it. The nail came out. 

“ Put it eighteen inches from the door casing, 
Harry.” 

“ How’d you know that? ” 

“ Don’t know — just found it out.” 

“ Well,” said Harry, after a few minutes more 
of sullen silence, “ what are we going to do about 
it?” 

“ Do about it? ” 

“ Yes, what are we going to do about it? Hang 
around in Oakwood for two months ? ” 

“ They’ll write.” 

“ Yes, I suppose they will,” said Harry. “ We’ll 
hear something in a few day;s. The trouble is they 
may not know for a few days just where they’re 
going to settle. You know, they’re going to get out 
at Ticonderoga and strike up into the woods north. 
Red Deer spoke of following the old Mohawk trail. 
I wish I had his map.” 

He thrust his hands into his pockets, and stood 
gazing out of the window. Neither spoke. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


17 

Harry/’ said Gordon, at length, it would be a 
great stunt for us to go up there and find them.” 

You must be crazy. Kid.” 

‘‘Of course, they’ll write and tell us where they 
are, but that may be a week or more, and when we 
got to them they’d all laugh at us. Now, if we 
could just — ” 

“ It’s out of the question. Kid.” 

“ No, it isn’t either,” persisted Gordon. “ Here 
we are, a couple of scouts — been tracking and stalk- 
ing and signaling and woodcrafting and all that sort 
of thing for six months. We know the troop is 
going to camp along Lake Champlain on the New 
York side.” 

“ Lake Champlain’s a hundred and fourteen miles 
long,” interrupted Harry. 

“ That’s nothing. We know they’re somewhere 
along the west shore of that lake — I say, let’s go 
and find them.” 

“Why, you hair-brained kid, it would be like 
hunting for a needle in a haystack,” said Harry, 
warming up a little to the idea under the younger 
boy’s enthusiasm. 

“ Well, there’s a way to find a needle in a hay- 
stack, Harry. You fix a big magnet on the end of a 
long stick and then begin — ” 

But that was as far as he got. Harry Arnold sat 
down on the edge of the bed and laughed himself 
hoarse. He came out of this fit in much the same 


i8 


BOY SCOUTS 


condition as one comes out from the crisis of a fever. 
His ill humor was quite gone and his mood was 
more agreeable and receptive than it had been since 
he left the station in quest of his delinquent friend. 

“ It would be a great thing,” said he, “ only — ” 

‘‘ There’s no only about it, Harry. It can be done 
and we can do it. We’ll start before there’s a 
chance to hear. No sirree! They’ll not have the 
laugh on me. We’ll drop in on them some fine day 
as if we’d dropped from the clouds.” 

The attractive features of the scheme began rap- 
idly to appeal to the older boy. It was all very well 
tracking and stalking in the Oakwood woods, where 
any member of the troop could take his bearings by 
the . church steeple. It was all very well pretending 
to be lost. It was a good enough makeshift to 
think up emergencies, to make them to order, and 
then gallantly to surmount them by a knowledge of 
woodcraft. But here was a real test for their abil- 
ity, their endurance, their sagacity, their observation, 
resource, and experience. A Saturday afternoon 
grapple with the little patch of Oakwood woods was 
like a bout with a punching bag — the exercise was 
good, but the element of uncertainty and real peril 
was absent. For a punching bag cannot hit back. 
And after all they had only been playing a game in 
which Nature — the opponent — had been fright- 
fully handicapped. She had held no surprises for 
them and presented no obstacles. The difficulties 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


19 


they had overcome had been manufactured for that 
especial purpose. They had pretended to be lost — 
but they could hear the Town House bell every half- 
hour. No, the whole thing seemed tame beside the 
enchanting picture of a real encounter with Nature 
up among the rugged foothills of the Adirondacks. 

There, along the winding course of Lake Cham- 
plain, somewhere within hail of its shore and nes- 
tling among the hills that flank it — somewhere in 
that wilderness would be encamped the two patrols 
of the Oakwood scouts. And shielding them and 
baffling the searchers would be the swamps, the 
mountains, the valleys, and the strange, dim woods. 
Here would be a foeman worthy of their steel, and 
beside it the modest, familiar little patch of wobd- 
land that skirted their suburban home seemed piti- 
ably small. So that Gordon very truthfully re- 
marked : 

‘‘Honest, Harry, I feel as if Pd been hitting a 
fellow under my size.” 

Was there a way? What weapons had they with 
which to encounter this great silent, enveloping foe, 
and make it yield up its secret ? The wilderness, the 
hills and streams, the swamps and thickets, must pay 
the cost of the encounter and sustain them in their 
quest. They would lay the enemy under contribu- 
tion for their maintenance. 

They talked it over, warming to the idea as new 
obstacles presented themselves. They likened them- 


20 


BOY SCOUTS 


selves to Stanley hunting for Livingstone in South 
Africa. And they told each other what Red Deer 
would think when he saw them come walking im — 
which,, of course, they would do in a very nonchalant 
and offhand manner, as if they had just happened 
in for a little social call. 

‘‘ It’ll be great,'’ said Gordon. 

After all,” said Arnold, more thoughtfully, “ we 
can’t get lost if we have a compass. A fire with 
damp leaves on it is as good as a telephone, and — ” 

‘‘Of course it is,” said Gordon. 

“ You can't freeze if you've got a match.” 

“You don't need a match, Harry — there's a 
way — ” 

“ Yes, there's always a way when you're along. 
Kid.” 

So they talked over the pros and cons of the pro- 
posed undertaking, taking account of all they had 
learned of woodcraft, and gloating over the surprise 
they would give Red Deer and the two patrols, until 
finally, from mere excess of enthusiasm, they sat 
silent, contemplating the variety of opportunities 
which the expedition would present for the testing 
of their resource and woodcraft skill. 

“Kid,” said Harry Arnold, “the troop can be 
found wherever they are. We can reduce the area 
a good deal by deduction at the very start. We 
know they’ll be on the New York shore not far 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


21 


from the lake. It’ll be the greatest thing in the 
world for us to go up there and find them, and by 
the powers, I’m going to do it if I — ” 

‘‘ Oh, Harry, let’s start to-night ! ” said Gordon. 


CHAPTER II 


A GLIMPSE AT THE HAYSTACK 

Harry Arnold was eighteen years old, and, as 
you may have noted from the position of his badge 
and the color of his scarf, he was leader of the 
Beaver patrol. He was tall, lithe, and active, and, 
without being exactly an athlete, he gave the im- 
pression of being athletic. 

There was a certain indescribable something in his 
appearance which suggested the out-of-door life 
rather than a gymnasium training, and it is a fact 
that he seldom did a thing simply and solely be- 
cause it would make him strong. There was noth- 
ing of the athletic faddist about him, and it was said 
by some of the Oak wood boys that he was not much 
of a sport. Of course, that depends on what you 
call sporting, but it must be confessed that he took 
but slight interest in games — as such. He liked to 
see a good kick on the gridiron, a good ball pitched ; 
he enjoyed seeing a boy catch a “ sky-scraper or 
watching a home run. But whether the pitcher, 
runner, or catcher wore a white suit or a blue suit or 


BOY SCOUTS 


23 

a red suit, or the initial A or B or any other letter, 
made little difference to him. 

He was not much given to talking (his friend 
Gordon attended to that), but he was fond of say- 
ing, ‘‘The question is, what can a fellow do, not 
whom can he beat ? ” He was not particularly fond 
of either football or baseball but, if I can make the 
distinction clear, he was fond of each feature of 
these games for its own sake independently of re- 
sults. It made several of his companions quite im- 
patient when he calmly protested, on his way home 
from the baseball field one day, that the visiting team 
which had just been beaten by the Oak wood High 
School had really done the best work. 

“ Well, we beat them anyway, and that’s how / 
judge,” said Collins. And that, indeed, is the way 
most boys judge. But Arnold had watched each 
individual play apart from its connection with the 
game as a whole, and he persisted that the visitors 
had done the best work. 

Perhaps we can get at it best by saying that he 
had the true sporting instinct, but lacked the spirit of 
the contestant. He saw a difference between the 
word “ success ” and the word “ victory.” It was a 
grand, inspiring thing to see a home run — never 
mind which side scored. 

He cared nothing for dumb-bells, Indian clubs, 
elastic exercisers, and such. He loved the woods 
and the water, and the things he loved to do made 


24 


BOY SCOUTS 


him strong and enduring. “ You cannot get up 
much of an affection for dumb-bells and Indian 
clubs,” he said; so they don’t do you much good.” 

I don’t know that I wholly agree with him in this, 
but I think I catch his idea, which is sound and 
wholesome. At all events, we must take him as we 
find him. 

He was inordinately fond of boating, and had 
walked away with the seamanship badge so easily 
that it seemed a shame for him to take it. He gave 
the examiners good measure in all the tests and 
threw in several feats gratis. He could ride a 
canoe as a cowboy rides a mustang, and had come 
alone in one of those little shells from Block Island 
to New York, straight through Long Island Sound, 
in November. 

He was thoughtful and far-sighted, and studious 
in regard to matters that interested him specially. 
In his seamanship test he had voluntarily drawn a 
plan of a turbine engine, giving also a description of 
its advantages in sea navigation. What he knew, he 
knew thoroughly, and the thing that interested him 
most, next to wood lore and out-door life and boat- 
ing, was Gordon Lord. 

That loquacious Beaver, with his head stuffed full 
of a variety of useful and semi-useful information, 
furnished him a source of never ending amusement 
which had blossomed into a genuine attachment for 
the younger boy. Kid,” he would say, the inside 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


25 


of your head reminds me of a rummage sale or an 
old attic. Why don’t you get busy and clear it out 
some rainy Saturday ? ” 

And Gordon would answer, ‘‘ Because then I 
wouldn’t have anything to make you laugh with 
when you get a grouch on. See ? ” And this, per- 
haps, may afford a hint as to why the two had been 
drawn together. 

It now became the first duty of Harry Arnold to 
encounter his young friend’s father and surmount, 
if might be, the difficulty of parental objection to the 
proposed undertaking. This he could not do until 
evening, but he knew enough to know that he was 
going to talk to a business man and that it behooved 
him to he prepared. Of his own father’s consent he 
had no doubt. 

Mr. Lord had a great admiration for Harry. 
His shrewd business habit of keen observation had 
long since shown him that here was a boy who was 
adventurous but not visionary. He admired the 
lad’s straightforward, self-possessed way of talking. 
He had even been favorably impressed with the mod- 
erate and discriminate use of slang which character- 
ized his conversation. 

^‘Just enough to make what he says pithy and 
vivid,” he told Gordon. “ You never hear him use 
senseless expressions or words that have no mean- 
ing — I like to talk to him.” In short, he was well 
pleased with the intimacy between the two boys, for 


26 


BOY SCOUTS 


he felt that Harry was an admirable companion for 
his own impulsive son. 

Harry started at once for the city, where he pro- 
cured from a sporting outfitter just what he wanted 
and no more, which is not always an easy thing to 
do. This was a government survey map of the 
Lake Champlain country. If there had been time 
he might have gotten this from Uncle Sam at the 
moderate price of five cents; as it was, it cost him a 
dollar. 

The afternoon he spent in his room alone, study- 
ing the map. Gordon’s alluring picture of dropping 
in on the troop unexpectedly some fine day did not 
divert him from a calm and thoughtful consideration 
of the chances of success or failure. Of course, the 
idea of going up there and searching them out by the 
application of wit, persistence, and resource appealed 
strongly to his spirit of adventure. But he was not 
going to allow himself to be too hopeful. He saw 
that if they started at Ticonderoga and journeyed 
north in a direct line they would be, generally speak- 
ing, on high ground, whence they could keep the lake 
in view as well as the two miles, approximately, 
which would intervene between themselves and the 
water. 

In other words, his plan would be to start at the 
foot of Lake Champlain and follow the ridge of 
high land which ran parallel with the lake about two 
miles west of it. He saw that here and there along 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


27 


the route were high elevations whence they might 
obtain excellent surveys of the shore line and the 
country between. A few days’ tramping and climb- 
ing would enable them to pick out the camp if it 
were in open ground. But he realized that it prob- 
ably would not be in open ground. 

The only definite knowledge they would start with 
as to the troop’s camping place was as follows : 

They were to start at Ticonderoga and press 
north. 

They were to camp on the New York side of the 
lake. 

They would remain in proximity to the lake. 

They would, probably, not go north of Port 
Henry, which was, roughly speaking, fifteen miles 
above Ticonderoga. 

That left a tract of country fifteen miles long and 
from two to three miles wide to be explored. The 
long sides of this rolling, wooded rectangle were 
bounded respectively by the ridge and the long 
stretch of lake shore. But the ridge was not con- 
tinuous and well defined, and its constant availability 
for outlook was, of course, not to be depended on. 
Indeed, to the average eye the map would have 
shown no ridge at all. But Harry picked it out, fol- 
lowing the contour linings and altitude notations, 
and saw it as if it were a grand stand. He knew 
enough of woodcraft to know that a searcher must 
keep to the high ground, and he did not make the 


28 


BOY SCOUTS 


mistake of supposing that the thing to do would be 
to follow the shore. 

He took a lead pencil from his ear. It was the 
first weapon to be used and he knew its value. Then 
and there, in the seclusion of his own room, he be- 
gan the search for the needle in the haystack. 

He knew that certain things could be eliminated 
by deduction and that it was best to eliminate them 
before he tripped over them. He marked the imag- 
inary rectangle on his map. Then he studied it as 
if it were a chess-board and he a player. He knew 
that the chances were strongest for finding the 
troop encamped toward the southern end of his rec- 
tangle, because when they found the sort of place 
they were after why should they go farther? 
There was a river rising somewhere in Keeny Moun- 
tain and making its way into the lake about three 
miles north of Ticonderoga. Very likely they would 
not be north of that, for why should they not camp 
along the first river they came to? They would 
probably not be remote from a road. If they fol- 
lowed up the lake, they would cut in west a little 
below the river because there was a swamp. If they 
did this, they would buck right into the river on high 
ground about one mile in from the lake. If condi- 
tions there were as he thought they were, that 
would mark the general locality of their camp. For 
people, like rivers, follow the path of least resistance. 
Harry judged what Dr. Brent would do by consider- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


29 


ing what he would do. He let the rectangle stand 
as he had marked it, but he interested himself most 
in its lower end. 

There was a ring at the door-bell. 

“ If that's Kid Lord," he called out, never looking 
up from the map, tell him if he comes up here, he’s 
got to keep quiet." 

But it was not Kid Lord, for Kid Lord was other- 
wise engaged. 

That evening, Harry rolled up his map and went 
up to the Lord house. Mr. Lord was standing on 
the lawn watching the activities of a new revolving 
sprinkler. 

‘‘ Hello, Harry, my boy," said he, cordially. 
“ Well, you and Gordon are a couple of A-i scouts, 
aren’t you? You made a great botch out of getting 
off!" 

I think we can find them, Mr. Lord," said 
Harry, as they walked toward the porch and seated 
themselves in two large wicker chairs. 

“I don’t know about that, Harry," said Mr. 
Lord, seriously. I’m afraid it’s too much of an 
undertaking. Dr. Brent will manage to get word to 
you boys, as I told Gordon — you needn’t be afraid 
of that. He’ll have one of the boys arrange to meet 
you somewhere — the nearest station — and — " 

‘‘ And they’ll all laugh at us." 

What do you care for that ? " 


30 


BOY SCOUTS 


Well, I don’t know that I do, sir, but it would' 
be a lot of fun to find them.” 

‘‘ That’s what Gordon says, but now just think a 
minute, my boy. You propose to roam around 
through those woods, tramp up mountains, walk 
through swamps for maybe two weeks or more, sim- 
ply for the pleasure of stealing quietly up to their 
tents some day and calling, ‘ Peek-a-boo/ I don’t 
think the game’s worth the candle, now, do you ? ” 
Yes, sir, I do.” 

What’s that you’ve got ? ” 

That’s a map I want to show you,” answered 
Harry, unrolling it and spreading it on his knee ; ‘‘ I 
guess maybe Gordon has an idea that we’re going 
into a country like the wilds of Africa, but it isn’t 
quite as bad as that. Of course, there are wild 
tracts, but there are roads and villages, and then 
there’s the lake to keep us from going too far astray. 
I’m pretty sure we’ll find camp near the lake. 
Now, my idea is to follow this ridge — ” 

‘‘What ridge?” 

“Why, right along here,” said Harry, pointing 
with his pencil. 

“You call that a ridge?” 

“Yes, sir; those are all mountains, and the high 
land is more or less continuous. It’ll give us a 
bird’s-eye view.” 

“ Now, let me tell you something, my boy. It’s 
easy to climb a mountain on a map. But a few 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


31 


curlicue lines aren’t a mountain — no sirree — any 
more than a bill of fare is a dinner. Now, take my 
advice and do the comfortable, easy way. Stay 
right here till you get word from Dr. Brent.” 

It would be good sport,” protested Harry. 

I know, but suppose you shouldn’t find them ? ” 

Mr. l!ord,” said Harry, if I were working for 
you in your office and you wanted me to do some- 
thing, you wouldn’t ask me what would happen if 
I failed to do it. You would expect me not to 
fail.” 

Mr. Lord gave the boy a quick, approving 
glance but said nothing, only fell to examining the 
map. 

‘‘ Well,” said he, let’s see how you mean to do.” 

I mean to explore this tract, not every inch of 
it, of course, but by signals, and so forth. I figure 
that we’ll find some trace of them along the roads or 
in the wood trails. Also we can see a good deal 
of country from these mountains, some of them 
especially.” 

Suppose you tramped away up a mountain for a 
grandstand view and found it covered with dense 
woods ? ” 

I could climb a tree, but even that won’t be nec- 
essary. Do you know how they made this map, Mr. 
Lord? They had men out surveying the country. 
On the tops of some of these mountains there must 
be some old disused government survey stations. 


32 


BOY SCOUTS 


Here’s a mountain called Bald Knob, so we know 
right off there are no woods on it. Here’s Owl Pate 
— no woods on Owl Pate, I guess. Now this is 
what I mean to do, sir. Pm going right up that 
road from Ticonderoga, and if there hasn’t been any 
rain I can pick out their tracks if they went that 
way. That’s a stretch of flat country. If we 
haven’t spotted them by the time we get to Dibble 
Mountain, we’ll go up and take a look and see what 
we see. We may send up a Morse smoke signal and 
like enough that’ll fetch them. If it doesn’t, then on 
for Crown Point. You see, there’s the village, and 
no harm can come to us.” 

You could wire me from Crown Point,” sug- 
gested Mr. Lord. 

‘‘ Yes, only we wouldn’t.” 

Mr. Lord laughed. “ See, there’s a good high 
mountain, Harry; Bullwagga, is it? Yes, Bull- 
wagga.” He was getting quite into the spirit of the 
thing, and Harry led him along with the lead pencil, 
which Mr. Lord’s eyes followed as a needle follows 
a magnet. ‘‘ Well, I hope you’ll find them,” he con- 
cluded. “ I guess you’re equal to it. I wish I were 
young enough to go along.” 

Harry rolled up his map and went up to Gordon’s 
room. He found that young gentleman in a rather 
despondent mood. 

‘‘ What’s the matter. Kid ? ” 

‘‘ My father won’t stand for it.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


33 

‘‘ Oh, I guess he will ; I’ve just been talking to 
him.” 

What’d he say?” 

“ Said he wished he was young enough to go along 
with us. Come on now, get a hustle. We start to- 
morrow morning.” 


CHAPTER III 


A GOOD TURN AND A SALUTE 

That evening Gordon was doomed to disappoint- 
ment. From the moment that he learned they might 
go, his active mind had been busy considering what 
articles they must take, and most of those he 
thought necessary were ruthlessly vetoed by his 
friend. He found that the first delight of the nov- 
ice in camping and exploring was heartlessly taken 
from him — the delight of making preparations. 
There was, in fact, scarce any preparation at all. 
They spent the evening in Harry’s room, which had 
much the appearance of a frontier trading-post, so 
crowded was it with camping paraphernalia and for- 
est mementos. 

From these Harry collected a few things, some 
from the walls, some from bureau drawers, some 
from a large chest. There was fishing tackle, a 
practical jewel-set compass, a jack-knife which he 
carefully selected from several others, a small belt 
ax, a flat metal trap, several snares, a pair of moose- 
skin moccasins, a water-tight match box, the neces- 
sary toilet articles, a small file, a small aluminum 
34 


BOY SCOUTS 


35 


frying pan, a saucepan, a tin cup, a small aluminum 
coffee pot into which he put two knives, two forks, 
and two spoons, for Harry's duffel bag, containing 
his personal equipment for the trip, had gone on 
with the troop. 

“ Now, let me see,” he said, standing beside the 
bed and contemplating the things he had chosen, 
‘‘ you take this paper and write down what I name 
— or wait a minute, while I think of it.” He dis- 
appeared, and presently returned with a spool of 
strong thread and two needles stuck into it. This 
he dropped into the tin cup, then dropped the tin 
cup into the coffee pot. 

‘‘ Now write down what I tell you — these are 
all things we’ve got to get in the morning. 

‘‘ Two tin plates. 

‘‘ Bacon. 

“ Rice — do you like rice ? Saccharine tablets. 
Raisins. Salt and pepper. Egg powder. Got all 
that down ? ” 

‘‘ Yes.” 

All right, the rest will come to me in my sleep. 
Now let’s see what you’ve got in that fancy bag.” 
He turned the contents of Gordon’s duffel bag out 
on the bed. What in the world is this ? ” 

“ That’s a suction pad, Harry.” 

‘‘What’s it for?” 

“ Keep you from falling off cliffs.” 

“ We’ll cut out the suction pad. Here, eat these 


36 iBOY SCOUTS 

apples and get them out of the way. Now, what’s 
this?” 

So he went through the pile of things, approving 
some, discarding others, yielding here, insistent 
there, until, as he said, he had reduced Gordon’s 
freight to a common denominator. 

The next morning they started, with a minimum 
amount of duffel for one week’s supply, the load di- 
vided between them. There were crackers of the 
iron-clad pilot variety ; there was rice, which Harry 
said he could do lots of things with; there were 
chocolate, cheese, figs, cereal, besides the things 
Harry had enumerated the night before. Besides 
these, there was ‘‘ fiy dope,” one or two household 
medicines, an antiseptic solution, blankets, two 
empty cushion bags, and a good-sized piece of bal- 
loon silk (weighing next to nothing) for shelter. 

Harry wore long khaki trousers laced down from 
the knee, and moccasins of heavy mooseskin. From 
the belt up, however, he was rather a sailor than a 
scout, for he had never been able to bring himself to 
abandon the blue flannel shirt with its flap front and 
double row of pearl buttons. He positively de- 
clined to wear any kind of coat. His belt was a 
thin book-strap, and from this hung a small belt 
ax. Of course, he carried his rifle. 

Gordon was a scout from head to foot. He 
would not have missed one detail of the full re- 
galia. He carried his part of the burden in his 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


37 


duffel bag slung over his staff, on which he also os- 
tentatiously hung the trap and snares and to which 
was bound the fishing rod and tackle. 

You want to do what I did, Harry,” said he on 
their way to the station. “ Rip the lining out of 
your hat and pull it on good and tight — the felt 
catches your hair and it can’t blow off.” 

Or pull off either when you’re crawling through 
brush. It’s a good idea.” 

‘‘ That’s nothing,” said Gordon. Look here.” 
He held his scout hat forward, displaying inside the 
crown a little flap pocket filled with matches. See, 
you can splash through all the water you want, but 
they’ll never get wet there, and you’ve got them 
right handy where you want them to light in a 
breeze.” 

“ Good for you,” said Harry. 

** That’s nothing,” said Gordon. 

But just then the train whistled and both boys 
sprinted down the hill. 

The ride to the city was not long, one or two 
trifling purchases at a sporting goods store where 
Harry seemed to be well known took but a few 
minutes, and before ten o’clock they were seated 
comfortably in the Montreal Express, gliding up 
the east shore of the Hudson, just as the Oak- 
wood troop, minus these two boys, had gone the day 
before. 

It was Gordon’s custom always to get his good 


38 


!BOY SCOUTS 


turn done early in the day. He was not going to be 
caught at sundown with this duty staring him in the 
face. Not that he confined himself to one good 
turn per day, for, indeed, he acted on the approved 
theory that one good turn deserves another. But 
the first good turn was a religious duty; it was es- 
sential to his good standing, and when he under- 
took to become a scout he understood this to be a 
regular daily obligation. He did not ask for any 
credit or indulgence. He never let his good turn go 
over to be made up the following day by two good 
turns. He rose in the morning, washed, dressed, 
breakfasted, did his school work, then looked about 
for an opportunity to do his good turn. 

So now he looked up and down the railroad car- 
riage to see if any one were in need of his kindly 
ministrations. After a minute, he rose and walked 
up the aisle, where he stood on the outskirts of a lit- 
tle group consisting of the train newsboy, the brake- 
man, an elderly lady, and two little girls, evidently 
her grandchildren. The brakeman was trying to 
open the window for the elderly lady. But the 
window would not open. The brakeman, giving up 
the attempt, went up the aisle and out of the car, and 
an elderly gentleman offered his services with the 
same result. The lady was beginning to feel the em- 
barrassment of being such a center of interest. As 
Harry craned his head around he saw Gordon stand- 
ing modestly apart from the others, hat in hand. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


39 

Presently, the latter came back to his seat and got 
his staff. 

‘"Did you think of a way?” asked Harry, laugh- 
ing. 

“ Can't tell yet,” said Gordon, as he went back up * 
the aisle. 

The car door opened and a sonorous voice called, 

“ Poughkeepsie 1 ” 

Gordon stepped in between the seats, placing the 
end of his staff under the brass lift at the bottom of 
the sash. As the train slackened speed, he pressed 
gently on his lever. Suddenly the movement of the 
train became more abrupt, the cars shunted, there 
came the slight convulsive movement he had been 
waiting for, the staff was pressed quickly down just 
at the right second, the window creaked and rose. 

In a moment more he was seated by his friend, 
volubly explaining the trick. 

“If she doesn’t come when the train stops, try 
again when it starts and often that’ll fetch her. 
Only you’ve got to be careful to press just exactly at 
the right second — the physical moment, I think they 
call it.” 

“ That’s it,” said Arnold, and turned his face to- 
ward the window, laughing. 

After they had left Albany there occurred another 
incident which, though trifling at the time, was 
destined to be long remembered. They were sitting 
comfortably back in their seats discussing their plan 


40 


BOY SCOUTS 


of campaign, when a boy of about sixteen came 
through the car. He was dressed in ordinary sum- 
mer outing fashion save that he wore a scout hat, 
and as he passed the two boys he raised his right 
hand to his forehead and made the full salute to 
Harry. He was one of a long line of people carry- 
ing bundles, suitcases, and so forth, who were pass- 
ing through the aisle, and it would have caused a 
slight interruption to the others had he paused. 
Probably for this reason he went straight on through 
the car and disappeared through the doorway. 

‘‘ He’s a scout, all right,” said Gordon. 

“ Yes,” answered Harry, “ but this is what puz- 
zles me — how did he know I am entitled to the full 
salute ? ” 

‘‘ From the badge on your hat, of course! ” 

‘‘ Only my hat’s upside down on my knees. Guess 
again.” 

Well,” said Gordon, ‘‘ he knew you were a first- 
class man by your seamanship badge.” 

“ But how did he know I was patrol leader ? ” 

“ Your flag?” 

‘‘ No — that’s gone on with the troop.” 

The only conclusion they could reach was that 
the strange boy was a wonder. Every now and then 
they reverted to it, and one or the other would sug- 
gest going back through the train to hunt him up 
and ask him how he knew that Harry Arnold was 
patrol leader. But they invariably settled back sat- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


41 


isfied with the observation that the boy was a ‘‘ win- 
ner/’ until finally Gordon shouted : 

“ He saw the badge wasn’t on your sleeve, Harry, 
so he knew it must be on your hat — there you are ! ” 

‘‘ No,” said Harry, “ he wouldn’t expect to see it 
on this flannel shirt — he’d know it belonged on the 
khaki jacket.” 

Well, he’s a Sherlock Holmes, all right,” con- 
cluded Gordon, and there the matter rested for the 
time being. 

At four o’clock in the afternoon the train pulled 
into the old village of Ticonderoga, which is at the 
head of Lake George and on the crescent-shaped 
stream which connects it with Lake Champlain. 
The boys realized now that it would have been bet- 
ter for them to arrive in the morning, but that would 
have involved an all-night journey in the train. 

There was the inevitable cluster of summer board- 
ers waiting at the station, and the two boys created 
quite a little ruffle of interest and curiosity as they 
stepped off the train. They made their way through 
the group and up to the postofflce, where Harry said 
he wanted to “ buzz ” the postmaster for any knowl- 
edge he might have of the whereabouts of the Oak- 
wood troop. Gordon stood by in fear and trem- 
bling lest the offlcial might drop some hint which 
would simplify their quest and spoil the whole fun 
of their expedition. 

It had gotten around to the postmaster by a some- 


42 


BOY SCOUTS 


what circuitous route that a party of boys and one 
man had arrived in town the day before and were 
not known to be staying at any of the houses, so they 
must have gone somewhere. They couldnT have 
stayed in town very long. ‘‘If they had, we^d a 
knowed it,’’ said the postmaster. 

They inquired in the telegraph station as to 
whether a party of boys had sent a message to Oak- 
wood, N. J., the day before. None had. But the 
telegraph operator’s sister had called in the doctor 
that morning, who had told her that the livery 
stable man had gone into the hardware store to buy a 
bit and had heard the hardware man say two 
“ rigged-up fellers ” had bought a steel trap the night 
before. So, despite Gordon’s protest, Harry inter- 
viewed the hardware man. The incident of the trap 
was true, but that was all they could learn, and they 
sought no further information. 

It lacked still an hour or two of sunset when they 
left the village and found themselves on the open 
road which stretched northward. It traversed a 
tract of fairly level country about two miles to the 
west of the lake, and about the same distance to the 
west of the road rose the mountains. Now and 
then they could catch a glimpse of the water whose 
winding course they were following, and always to 
their left were the hills, rolling one over another far 
to the westward and fading in color as they receded, 
till they merged into the horizon. Here and there, 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


43 


amid that multitudinous confusion, there arose some 
lofty peak touched with the first crimson rays of 
sunset. Doubtless, there were pleasant villages 
nestling here and there, and cheerful homes, but 
these the boys could not see — only the innumer- 
able hills, silent, wild, lonesome. It seemed that they 
might reach to the farthest ends of the earth. To 
Gordon the country did not look at all like the map, 
and it was hard to believe that the print and paper 
really represented anything or could be used to any 
purpose. 

“ Well, here we are in the haystack,” said Harry, 
cheerily. “ Now for the needle — I don’t see it 
anywhere, do you ? ” 

Harry,” Gordon answered, I think we’ve got a 
Job on our hands. Look at those hills. They don’t 
look much as they do on the map — all crisscrossed 
up with roads and villages and things.” 

‘‘ Especially, things/* said Harry. “You see, 
Kid, we’re between the foothills and the lake. 
That ridge bends toward the lake and touches the 
shore about five miles ahead — savvy? We’re cut- 
ting right up through the middle of a great big 
wedge, as you might say, and Dibble Mountain is 
the point. We’re headed right for it.” 

“ The point isn’t sharp enough to cut you,” com- 
mented Gordon. 

“ And when we get to Dibble Mountain, we’ll run 
upstairs and see what we can see.” 


44 


•BOY SCOUTS 


The sun was rapidly sinking, and as they fol- 
lowed the unfrequented road, the gathering shad- 
ows, the increasing chilliness of the air, the absence 
of any of the cheerful and familiar signs of human 
life, were not without their quieting effect on Gor- 
don’s buoyant spirit. He had heard Dr. Brent say 
that this country was not the Adirondacks proper, 
that it was not, in fact, a very wild country. But 
now, as he looked about him at the far-reaching 
hills with their dense patches of woods, growing 
somber and more forbidding in the twilight, it 
seemed to him that no country could possibly be 
wilder and more impenetrable. Hills, hills, nothing 
but hills; some rearing their rugged summits high 
above the rest as if they cherished a kind of lofty 
scorn at being put on a map and traced with a lead 
pencil. For the moment, his faith in human re- 
source and the facilities and possibilities of woods- 
wisdom was shaken in the face of this great, envel- 
oping, silent adversary. He even doubted whether 
Black Wolf ^ himself (let alone Red Deer) could 
put up much of a fight against such odds. 

Presently the road entered a patch of woodland 
where frogs croaked despondently in a little marshy 
pond and crickets kept up their incessant night 
songs. Then their way brought them into open 
country again. Silently they tramped on. On their 
right the road skirted a ravine which descended ab- 
1 Ernest Thompson Seton. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


45 


ruptly and whose bottom was lost in a black, tan- 
gled thicket. And beyond, in the direction of the 
great lake, extended woods till the twilight and the 
distance merged the tree-tops into one vast dark 
coverlet. They paused a moment, peering over the 
broken log fence into the depths. Somewhere in 
the stillness was the sound of falling water. High 
above them in the dusk sped a great bird, hastening 
toward the mountains. 

“It's a pretty big haystack, hey. Kid?” said 
Harry, cheerily. 

“ It certainly is,” answered Gordon, 


CHAPTER IV 


THE HAYSTACK VS. GORDON LORD 

A LITTLE farther on they came to a road branch- 
ing off from the one they were traveling, and Harry 
found on examining his map that it made a loop 
of a couple of miles and reentered the straighter 
road. 

“ There must be houses along that road,” said 
Gordon. 

“ Why?” 

‘‘ Else what would be the good of the road at 
all?” 

‘‘ Well, then,” said Harry, ‘‘ what’s the use of 
this one, if you come to that ? There are no houses 
on it so far.” 

** Well, if they both lead to the same place, if the 
other one just forms a loop, it must be to take in 
some houses, don’t you see ? ” 

‘‘ Maybe,” answered Harry. 

And I believe it would be a good thing for me 
to go along there and see what I can learn. We’ll 
meet at the other junction. The troop must have 
gone along one or the other of these roads, unless 
they went in another direction altogether. And 
46 


BOY SCOUTS 


47 

if there are any houses along there, as there must 
be, why, somebody must have seen them pass/' 

‘‘ You seem to be more anxious for tips than you 
were," said Harry. 

^‘No, only I think they may have started down 
that road and cut up into the hills before it joins 
this one again. What's the use in just marching 
right past them ? " 

The idea struck Harry as a good one; so it was 
agreed that he should keep to the straight road 
while Gordon covered the loop. They had not 
traveled to this point, where they were now to part 
for an hour or so, without keeping a keen watch 
for any signs of the troop which the roadside might 
reveal. But an afternoon shower had obliterated 
any tracks, if such there were, and the road had 
yielded no hint of those who had gone before. But 
Harry, still hopeful despite the gathering dusk, now 
took his way alone, making careful scrutiny of the 
right-hand border of the road for any intentional 
signs that might have been left, although he had no 
reason to anticipate finding any. 

The two boys were to meet where the roads again 
came together, which was at the foot of Dibble 
Mountain about two miles ahead, their plan being 
to camp somewhere under the shadow of the moun- 
tain and to climb to the summit in the morning for 
a bird’s-eye view of the surrounding country. 

The light was fast fading as Gordon left his com- 


48 


EOY SCOUTS 


panion and started along the loop road. It was 
instinctive with him to keep his eyes wide open, and 
his training as a scout, under Harry’s special tute- 
lage, had developed this trait until it was said of 
him by his friends, and especially by Red Deer, that 
his habit of finding things, of picking up pennies, 
collar buttons, and so forth, was little less than un- 
canny. His pockets were a veritable junk shop 
of miscellaneous trifles, the trophies and mementos 
of his pedestrian tours. 

Now, he had not gone a hundred yards along 
this road when something caught his attention and 
he paused to examine it closely. It was nothing 
more than an arrow, possibly three inches long, 
chalked upon a rock at the roadside. As nearly 
as he could judge in the dusk, the color of the chalk 
was pink, but the arrow pointed neither up nor 
down the road, but across it toward the west. So 
he crossed the road, examining the bordering trees 
and land, but could find nothing. He sat down 
on a rock and thought. To the average boy a mark 
of this kind would have meant nothing. To a scout 
it might mean many things. But, unlike most of 
the scout signs, its meaning was not manifest. It 
was not the good road sign nor the bad road sign, 
nor was it the sign that a message was secreted near. 
Yet it pointed a direction; but the direction showed 
no path nor trail and was fast wrapping itself in 
darkness. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


49 


He rubbed his fingers over the arrow, making a 
powdery blur upon the rock and causing his fingers 
to feel smooth and powdery as he rubbed them to- 
gether. 

“ This hasn’t been here long,” said he. Then he 
pondered, for he knew the rule that Dr. Brent was 
so fond of repeating, Use your brains first, then 
your hands and feet. 

Gordon knew all the signs, Indian and otherwise, 
that scouts might employ, but he had never seen a 
scout mark made with chalk before, and it jarred 
upon his romantic sense to see this schoolroom ma- 
terial used for purposes of woodcraft. Yet there 
was the arrow, pointing directly across the road, ap- 
apparently at nothing. He did not know what 
to make of it. Perhaps it was only a tramp’s 
mark. Perhaps — perhaps — then, suddenly, a 
thought came jumping into his head which gaye 
him a thrill of joy. Three nights ago, in the club 
room. Dr. Brent had sketched Lake Champlain on 
the blackboard in pink chalk. That settled it. 
‘‘I’ve found them,” he shouted, which was very 
much like him, for he was apt in his enthusiasms 
to anticipate his triumphs. 

Leaping across the road, he got down on his 
hands and knees, lighting match after match, and 
searched the ground. Presently he noticed a log 
spanning the little marshy gully at the side of the 
road. This he had not seen before, for it was well 


50 


BOY SCOUTS 


hidden amid the weedy roadside growths. Now 
he saw that several reeds which had inclined across 
the path of this rough bridge had been broken, and 
hung limply over to one side. The log ran into a 
floor of pine needles, where no sign of footprint 
showed. But there were the arrow and the ford 
and the broken reeds, and these meant that some- 
body had crossed — crossed and flown up in the air, 
for all that he could discover. Nervous with ex- 
pectation, he hurried about the grove, felt of the 
trees, knelt and examined rocks, and avoided kick- 
ing the smallest stone until he had observed its posi- 
tion in regard to other stones. Stealthily, silently, 
alertly, he moved about. His scout instinct was 
aroused. But he found nothing, and the long sum- 
mer twilight was now almost at an end. Peeling 
some bark from a tree and pulling off a quantity 
of the sticky resiny substance from others, he has- 
tily kindled a small fire. In a few moments this 
blazed up, showing him an illuminated area with a 
ground as smooth as a ballroom. There was not 
a sign of track or trail. He paused a moment, 
thinking. Then he pulled up his stocking, which 
was an indication that he meant business — a sort 
of challenge. 

Thus, with all his spirit of adventure and scout- 
ing instinct, he stood, baffled but thoughtful, in the 
vast, strange country, with his eyes fixed on his 
little fire. For a moment he forgot Harry, forgot 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


Sr 

everything but the pink arrow, the log ?ord, and 
the broken reeds, and stood there, his brown eyes 
fixed on the dancing flame, his staff stuck in the 
ground beside him and his duffel bag thrown over 
it. Presently, he went back to the log, knelt down, 
and examined the end of it which rested on the bed 
of pine needles. On the near side of the log was a 
very slight oval depression in the ground in which 
the pine needles were rotted, and where a little red 
lizard lay contentedly in the dampness. On the side 
of the log nearest this depression several slugs 
crawled distractedly about. Gordon reached his 
arm across the log and rolled it back into the depres- 
sion where it belonged. Then he sat down upon 
it and thought. 

‘‘ Some one must have lost his balance in the mid- 
dle of the log,” said he, aloud, ‘‘an^d in falling 
pushed it out of place.” And that could not have 
been long ago, for the slugs were still moving con- 
fusedly here and there and had not yet found the 
under side of the log. Gordon examined the 
muddy incline which led from the gully up into 
the grove. The dank, reedy foliage did not seem 
to have been disturbed, but in the brighter glow of 
his growing fire he presently noticed a well-defined, 
muddy imprint upon a flat rock. If he had dis- 
covered a diamond he could not have been more 
elated. 

Now he thought to himself that the person who 


5 ^ 


BOY SCOUTS 


had met with this trifling accident was either not a 
scout at all or a scout in a great hurry. For such 
a thing as a scout calmly falling off a log was pre- 
posterous, and Gordon would not entertain the 
thought except on the theory of great haste. But 
how had both patrols, sixteen boys, gotten through 
this grove leaving never a sign? For the pink 
chalk identified the travelers as the Oakwood troop. 

He gathered up a few pieces of bark and some 
leaves, and putting out his fire made his way hastily 
up through the grove. Presently he stood at its 
edge and looked across a spacious stretch of 
meadow land, beyond which were the grim, dark 
hills. He kindled another fire on a huge, convex 
piece of bark and, kneeling, crept along the edge of 
the grove, endeavoring to discover where the trail 
came out. But he could find no sign. It was now 
time to pull up his stocking again and take a long 
‘‘think,” as he called it. 

The result of his “think” was that he walked 
out into the field about one hundred and fifty feet, 
placed his little portable fire on the ground and en- 
larged it with a fresh supply of fuel from the grove. 
He watched it till its volume satisfied him, then 
returning to the edge of the grove he “ shinnied ” 
up a tree, but was careful not to embarrass his 
vision by looking directly at the fire. He looked 
about halfway between it and the grove and th'^re, 
thrown into bold relief by the neighboring fire and 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


'53 


his own high position, there ran a little straight 
trail across the meadow which died away short of 
the further side. He slid down from the tree, 
planted his staff in the ground near his fire, and 
shook a few burning twigs a yard or two from it. 
Then he carried his fire as best he could, for its bark 
tray was now ignited, still farther across the field, 
as far as the point where he thought the trail had 
become invisible to him from the tree. Returning 
to the edge of the grove, he climbed up the tree 
again. Sure enough, there was the trail visible 
farther on in the glow of the second fire, and enter- 
ing the thick woods beyond the meadow. It was 
barely discernible at that point, yet Gordon, from 
his high position and by concentrating his gaze, 
could determine the faint, shadowy line, flickering 
between visibility and invisibility, as it wound into 
the silent forest. When he took his eyes from it 
for a moment, he lost it, and picked it out again 
with difficulty. 

The idea of following it was out of the question ; 
so, looking steadily, he picked out a certain tree 
near which the trail entered, studying as best he 
could its height, size, and conformation. Climb- 
ing down from the tree and keeping this beacon 
constantly in view, he ran across the field, stamped 
out the few remaining embers of his first fire, took 
his staff, and made a bee-line for his beacon. 
When he reached it he could not, for the life of him. 


54 


(BOY SCOUTS 


discover the faintest indication of the trail across 
the field, but there, opening before him, was a well- 
defined, beaten path up through the forest. He 
saw it in the glow from his second fire, a few yards 
back, which was now dying fast. Leaning against 
the big tree which had guided him across the 
meadow, he looked back over the trailless space 
which he had forced to give up its secret. He 
looked at the tall, black trees of the grove beyond, 
whose smooth floor of pine needles had tried to 
baffle and confound him. Then he threw his duf- 
fel bag over his shoulder, and feeling his way cau- 
tiously with his staff, started up into the thick for- 
est. 


CHAPTER V 


THE FOREST HITS BACK 

His whole thought now was to reach the camp 
and surprise the two patrols and Red Deer. Feel- 
ing his way cautiously on and upward, for it was 
a wooded hillside he was traversing, he managed to 
pick his way along the winding forest path. Now 
he stumbled over naked roots, now some overhang- 
ing or projecting bough impeded his progress. It 
was useless to look for signs in such darkness; it 
was with difficulty that he kept to the wild, thickly 
grown trail. Sometimes he paused, undecided as 
to its direction, but always went on again, reas- 
sured by some trifling clue. Now and then, a 
clear, unobstructed opening of a few yards con- 
vinced him that he was in the path. At other 
times his only resource was to feel about with 
hands and feet, determining as best he might the 
path of least resistance and pressing through its 
tangled brush to find always an opening farther on. 
It was difficult work. No one who had gone be- 
fore, no roadside code, could help him here. 

Once or twice he thought of going back and re- 
suming his quest with Harry in the morning, but 
55 


56 


BOY SCOUTS 


he had gone so far that it seemed his easiest course, 
however difficult and involved, to press forward. 
Moreover, he was fast falling into the odd conceit 
of viewing the surrounding country, which he had 
nonchalantly called a haystack, in the light of a 
great adversary which had thrown down a chal- 
lenge to him, and he must perforce take up the 
challenge, else be a coward and a “ quitter.” So far 
he had held his own, and what a glory it would be 
to march into camp having vanquished these silent, 
baffling hosts of wood and hill and darkness. 
‘‘ Hello, Charlie,” he would say to the Beavers’ 
corporal, ‘‘ hurry up there and get me a bite to eat, 
will you ? ” His whole ambition was now to walk 
carelessly into their midst and squat down by the 
camp-fire with some cordial, offhand remark. 

From this train of thought, he was presently 
aroused by a sudden vigorous strategic move on 
the part of his imagined foe. His staff, which he 
had been bringing to the ground before him like a 
walking-stick with each step, suddenly sank, touch- 
ing nothing. He had the presence of mind to 
drop it and throw both arms quickly behind him, 
which inclined his body slightly backward and en- 
abled him to retreat a step or two. 

Shaking from head to foot, he fumbled in the 
little flap pocket in his hat crown and lit a match. 
It flared a second, then went out. But in the sud- 
den glare he saw that he was standing on the brink 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


57 


of a yawning chasm. Still trembling from his 
narrow escape, he struck another light and saw 
that one of his footprints was within eighteen inches 
of the precipice and that the other had actually 
rested on the very edge, displacing some of the 
earth, which had crumbled and fallen in. Gordon 
had had his first lesson in the tactics which the 
wilderness can use. 

He lay flat with his head over the edge and 
looked down. Nothing but darkness. So again 
he must use his faithful ally, the fire. Kindling a 
fire was his great stunt. He would gather up a 
few dry, brittle twigs or cones, scrape out a little 
punk, arrange them daintily, make a dome over them 
with his hands, and presently show you a very am- 
bitious little blaze, as a magician will take a mys- 
terious rabbit from a hat. ‘‘Do the fire trick. 
Kid,’’ the boys of the troop would say to him. So 
now he foraged about, accumulated the necessary 
materials, and presently had a very respectable 
flame. But the glare about seemed only to make 
the depths of the precipice darker. It had shown 
him, however, that the soil displaced by his peril- 
ous step was not the only soil that had been dis- 
turbed. Scarce two feet farther along the edge 
of the bank quite a sizable piece of earth had caved 
in. But he could see nothing below. He cut a 
straight stick about the size of an ordinary cane. 
This he whittled with his jack-knife, cutting in 


58 


BOY SCOUTS 


from the end of the stick to a depth of about eight 
inches, until the curly shavings formed a sort of 
brush. Between these wooden bristles he wedged 
as much tree gum as he could find on the adjacent 
trees, and lighting his torch, went cautiously along 
the edge of the bank. 

This soon began to slope gradually until at a 
distance of about fifty feet he was able to let him- 
self down into the bed of the chasm. It was filled 
with rocks and fallen trees and dank undergrowth, 
and yielded the unwholesome odor of rotting wood. 

Gordon picked his way through the gully, holding 
his flaring torch here and there until he was nearly 
under the spot where he had all but fallen. Here 
were three logs, two of them lying flat upon the 
swampy ground, the other leaning against the side 
of the precipice. He walked along one of these 
to avoid the wet as much as possible and suddenly 
came upon a hat, of the same general pattern as 
his own, lying in the mud. He was just about to 
pick it up when he saw a few feet farther on a 
ghastly object. A boy, his face smeared with 
blood and his leg in a very unnatural position, lay 
stark before him. 

The sight, as it showed in the glare of Gordon’s 
torch, quite unnerved him, and he stood for a mo- 
ment on the other log staring at the figure lying 
prone and motionless in the mud. He could not 
bring himself to go nearer. Presently, more to 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


59 


relieve his own nervous tension than for any other 
purpose, he called. But the figure neither stirred 
nor answered. There was something about its po- 
sition that frightened Gordon, and he could not 
bring himself to go close enough to look at the 
boy’s eyes. Then suddenly the words of General 
Sir Baden-Powell, which he had read, came jump- 
ing into his head, — plain words, plainly stated, and 
for that reason stamped in the boy’s memory: 

A scout is sometimes timid about handling an 
insensible man or a dead body, or of seeing blood. 
Well, he will never be much use till he gets over 
such nonsense. The poor insensible fellow can*t 
hurt him. 

At this recollection the young scout conquered 
his hesitation, stamped over through the mud to 
where the boy lay, and did the sensible thing, as a 
scout should. He circled his hand lightly about 
the poor, limp wrist and pressed slightly with his 
two middle fingers. As usual, with a novice, he 
had the wrong spot, so he moved his fingers ever 
so little and, sure enough, after a moment’s con- 
centration, he became aware of the little, steady 
throbbing which told him that at least the boy was 
alive. 

He thrust his now waning torch into the mud 
and thought. He knew that if either of the boy’s 


6o 


BOY SCOUTS 


limbs were broken he should not be moved unless 
absolutely necessary and then only with such han- 
dling as he was not in a position to give. He knew 
that if anything were the matter with the boy’s 
spine, any save the most careful and skillful moving 
might prove instantly fatal. But he also knew 
that no injured person should be left lying there in 
the mud. 

Undoubtedly, the responsibility which had sud- 
denly been thrust upon him, the need of careful 
judgment, were out of proportion to Gordon’s ex- 
perience and years, and being of a light-headed, 
sanguine, and buoyant temperament, the ‘‘ First 
Aid” training and ambulance badge had not been 
especially a part of his ambition. His scoutish 
triumphs, until now, had all been more or less 
amusing and humorous, but here was a grave duty 
resting on his young shoulders. And he met it, 
as a scout usually does, willingly. 

First he crowded all the odds and ends of wood 
and rock that he could find under the edge of the 
precipice, where the ground was higher and drier. 
Then, tugging with all his might and main, he man- 
aged to get the three logs over to this pile and 
rested their ends against it, so that they lay parallel 
with each other at a slight incline. Then he pressed 
down into the ground four sticks, one at the head 
and one at the foot of each outer log, thus effectu- 
ally preventing their spreading. The lower end, or 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


6i 


foot, of this inclined rack rested in the mud just 
above the prostrate boy’s head. Across this lower 
end and under the logs, he laid a stout stick whose 
ends rested just beside the stakes he had driven in 
the ground. Now he hurried along the gully and 
up the bank to the spot where he had left his 
bag. This he took and also such green boughs 
as he could procure hastily in the dark, and collected 
some more gum. When he returned it was neces- 
sary for him to re-whittle his torch and re-fill it 
with this substance. 

Arranging the boughs upon the rack and making 
as smooth a bed as he could in his great hurry, he 
spread his blanket over all. Then he kindled a fire 
up under the precipice where the ground was dry. 
All of his fuel had to be brought from above, and 
he carted down several loads in his bag, having 
emptied it of its contents. After he had succeeded, 
by much skillful persuasion, in inducing the little 
blaze to brace up and try to amount to something 
in the world, he drove two sticks into the ground, 
one on either side of the fire, and from one to the 
other of these he strung a piece of snare wire. On 
the other side of the gully, water was trickling down 
a rock, but how to entice it into his pail was a ques- 
tion. He noticed on the ground, near the uncon- 
scious boy, a little pamphlet. Without any very 
clear idea of its possible utility he picked it up. On 
the cover were printed the words: 


62 


BOY SCOUTS 


THE BOY SCOUTS’ SCHEME 
What It Is What It Is Not 

He knew the pamphlet well. Tearing the cover 
page off, he took his pail and going over to the 
miniature waterfall he held the page, slanting ways, 
tight against the rock with the other edge leading 
into his pail. In a few moments the pail was half 
filled with fairly clean water. This he hung from 
the snare wire above the flame. 

By the exercise of all his strength and with the 
greatest care, he succeeded in pulling the prostrate 
form up the inclined rack, cutting and pulling off 
the boy’s outer clothing as fast as it reached the 
foot of the rack so that the blanket might be kept 
dry. It was a delicate and difficult task, but he did 
it. When the limp, unconscious figure was on the 
rack, Gordon lifted one side of the foot by means 
of the cross bar underneath, laying the edge of this 
cross bar on a rock which he had placed for the 
purpose. He did the same with the other side. 
Thus he had succeeded in placing his charge on a 
couch well above the mud, dry and comparatively 
comfortable. He took off his own khaki coat and 
laid it over the boy. When his water had heated, 
he washed the boy’s face carefully with his hand- 
kerchief. 

As the mud and blood disappeared, a white face 
with closed eyes was revealed. Gordon started. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


63 


then stared intently. It was the very boy who had 
passed through the aisle in the railroad train and 
given Harry Arnold the full salute. There was an 
ugly wound on one side of his forehead. This, 
however, had ceased to bleed, and Gordon bathed 
it carefully and bandaged it with his handkerchief. 

Here his resource failed him. He knew of noth- 
ing more that he could do for the poor fellow’s 
comfort. It was quite too dark for smoke signals, 
and the woods were too dense for an effectual mes- 
sage by fire. It occurred to him to open the little 
scout bulletin, thinking that possibly something 
might be written in it, some name, or troop or 
patrol name, which might suggest some course bet- 
ter than merely waiting. He held it close to the 
fire and ran it over. It was Bulletin No. 5, 
containing among other things the required tests 
for tenderfoot, first-class, and second-class scouts. 
These were listed numerically, and as Gordon was 
very familiar with all of them they did not interest 
him particularly. Having done all the second-class 
tests, he did not even glance at these, but he did be- 
stow a fond and covetous eye upon the first-class 
list. The first test, beginning, “ Swim fifty yards,” 
was checked off. The second, requiring the sum of 
fifty cents in the savings bank, was also checked. 

‘‘ He’s to the good on the financial side,” com- 
mented Gordon. The third requirement (the signal 
test) was also checked. Not so the fourth. 


64 


BOY SCOUTS 


*‘4. Go on foot or row a boat alone to a 
point seven miles away and return, or if con- 
veyed by any vehicle or animal, go to a distance 
of fifteen miles and back; and write a short 
report on it. It is preferable that he should 
take two days over it.’’ 

Go on foot, alone, to a point seven miles away 
and return,” said Gordon, thoughtfully. “ Ticon- 
deroga must be about five miles from here. But 
the fellow came up on the train. If he’s trying to 
make his test — . Well, anyway, if he came from 
the village and was headed for a point seven miles 
from the village, his camp must be only a mile or 
two farther on.” 

Inspired by the thought, he added more fuel to 
his fire and printed across the back of the pamphlet, 
with a charred stick, the words. Gone for help. 

He stuck the pamphlet on a twig and placed it so 
that the boy, if he opened his eyes, must see it in 
the light of the fire. Then, hurrying along the 
gully, carrying nothing but his staff, he sought for 
a place low enough or sloping enough for him to 
mount the farther side of the hollow. Finally, 
clambering up through tangled brush, he reached the 
brow and went cautiously along the edge to a point 
almost above where his fire still burned and where 
the prostrate figure lay, stark and white and mo- 
tionless. He lighted a match to make sure that the 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 65 

path recommenced here, and in its short glare he 
noticed something which made him start. 

It was a new, clearly defined footprint, pointing 
in the same direction that he himself was about to 
take. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE SIGN OF THE TURTLE 

Gordon now found the path easier to follow, 
partly because it was better defined and less ob- 
structed by brush, and partly because the moon was 
coming to his assistance. Its light flickered through 
the tree tops some way before him over the summit 
of a hill which lay directly in his path. Presently, 
the woods were all aglow with its checkered bright- 
ness. 

Keeping his eye ever to the right of the path for 
possible signs or directions, he hurried on, running 
when the way permitted, through a marshy hollow, 
and was just about to begin the climb of the hill 
before him when his observant eye became riveted 
on a certain flat stone with an oval wet spot in the 
center. If he had not been a scout he would not 
have noticed this at all, and even the average scout 
would probably have mistaken it for a footprint. 
But to Gordon, even in his haste, the little wet trail 
which led from the oval spot to the edge of the 
stone told another story. He knew a turtle had 
been basking here within a very short time and had 
gone away. Why? Gordon asked himself as he 
66 


BOY SCOUTS 


67 


hurried on. For he knew from his trusty old friend, 

Doc. Wood,’’ as he called the famous writer of 
natural history, that when a turtle seeks a high and 
dry position in the evening he does not contemplate 
moving out at short notice. So Gordon put the 
footprint and the fact of the turtle’s sudden de- 
parture together and became very curious. If some 
one had preceded him along this path, why were 
there not more footprints ? And why had the some 
one deliberately left the injured boy to his fate? 
Then suddenly another thought came to him which 
made him shudder, but he had no time to think, and 
hurried on. 

The woods became more sparse now, and pres- 
ently a road crossed the boy’s path. Beyond it the 
hill continued to rise gently, with only a few scat- 
tered trees here and there. The moon was now 
well clear of the summit, and smiling down encour- 
agingly upon the sturdy, indomitable little fellow as 
he paused, gave his stocking a vigorous hitch, and 
started to run up to the summit. If a view from 
that favorable position revealed nothing, then he 
would have to consider whether it would be wiser 
to attempt to pick up the trail down the opposite 
slope and thus find the proper entrance into the 
woods beyond, or give up and go back to the stricken 
boy. For he knew he must not let his quest for 
succor run too far, and that a scout must always 
think and use his judgment. 


68 


(BOY SCOUTS 


Excitedly, nervously, he mounted the bare sum- 
mit of the hill, finding never a footprint to encour- 
age him, nor a familiar scout sign. For a second 
he stood there, seeming very small in that limitless 
expanse, gazing about in the moonlight. He looked 
down the hill, concentrated his gaze, and tried to 
pick out some sign of trail. But the hubbly, coarse- 
grown hillside kept its secret, if it had any, and 
Gordon knelt down in quest of some hint, some clue, 
near at hand. He rose, bewildered, uncertain, al- 
most discouraged. His uniform was covered with 
burrs and torn by the brambly thickets he had 
crawled through. 

But the first round of his encounter with this 
rugged enemy was over, as he was presently to 
know. And Master Gordon Lord, scout of the 
second class, Beaver Patrol, ist Oakwood Troop, 
was the victor. For out of the woods which began 
under the further slope of the hill and extended far 
into the distance, there rose about a quarter of a 
mile away, little, fitful, fast-dissolving gusts of 
smoke. 

A few moments later he stood at the foot of the 
hill looking anxiously through the thick forest where 
only flickering glints of the moonlight penetrated. 
But no moonlight was needed now, for he could dis- 
tinguish several squares of white, half hidden among 
the trees, and rendered visible by the cheerful blaze 
of a camp-fire. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


69 


Pm certainly a dandy ! ” said Gordon, with un- 
concealed pride, as he started through the woods, 
running with all his might and main. 

No one heard the remark unless it was the man in 
the moon, who looked down with a broad smile on 
his face and seemed to wink his eye as if to say, 
“ You certainly are, my boy.” 


CHAPTER VII 


WHEN SCOUT MEETS SCOUT 

The camp consisted of three wall tents, a small 
tent of modified tepee fashion, and a lean-to used 
for cooking, outside of which was erected a huge, 
rough dining board. The whole appearance of the 
place was very homelike. Woods trophies and 
articles of woodcraft handiwork hung about from 
the low-spreading branches, and it was evident that 
the campers had been there for some time. 

Before each of the wall tents was planted a patrol 
flag, and gathered about the cheerful fire was as 
merry a company as Gordon had ever seen. A 
genial-looking man of perhaps thirty-five years was 
sitting amongst a score or so of boys, who in negli- 
gee scout attire squatted and lolled about him, as if 
intent upon what he was saying. 

All this Gordon saw from a distance. But before 
he had approached within fifty yards of the camp, 
and before he could possibly have been seen and 
scarcely heard, a tall boy rose suddenly, looked in- 
tently in his direction, and called : 

Who’s there?” 

“ Gee, he's a peach, all right ! ” breathed Gordon, 
70 


BOY SCOUTS 


7t 

never answering, but rushing pell-mell into their 
midst. Every boy rose, surveying him wonderingly. 
The man remained seated. Gordon paid not the 
slightest heed to the gaping throng, but made a bee- 
line for the man and, standing panting and dis- 
heveled before him, made him the full salute. 
Then, breathlessly, he gasped out his errand. In- 
stantly all was activity. 

‘‘ Call in Billy,’^ said the man, quietly, as he took 
a railroad lantern from a tent pole. You, my 
boy,’’ he went on to Gordon, will stay here. Who 
are you, anyway ? ” 

“ Kid — I mean, Gordon Lord, sir; ist Oakwood 
New Jersey, Troop. My patrol leader and I came 
up to see if we could find camp — our own camp, I 
mean. They’re somewhere up this way. I - — ” 

“ Well, you can tell me the rest when we get 
back,” said the man, cheerfully. “ Where’s Billy, 
anyway? Give him another call, George.” 

A succession of shrill whistles was repeated, and 
presently a boy wearing spectacles came dashing 
into camp. 

Get your kit, Billy, and come along,” said the 
man. ‘^Walter’s gone down that chasm in the 
farther woods — head cut and leg in a bad way. 
Here, Wentworth, you and Norton get the stretcher 
and come along — you’d better come too, Charlie.” 

‘‘ Sure you can find the place ? ” asked Gordon, a 
little doubtful. 


72 


BOY SCOUTS 


Oh, yes,’^ answered the man. We put up the 
logs. Is Cattell there? Here, Cattell, you rake 
up some grub for this boy. Go over there, my boy, 
and let the Ravens take care of you.*^ 

The Ravens knew how to do more than croak, as 
Gordon presently found, for they sat him at the 
rustic table and gave him such a helping of hunters' 
stew as would have sufficed for the entire patrol. 
He entered upon the ambitious task of eating it with 
the same nonchalant determination that had led him 
into the woods, without the slightest idea of the 
magnitude of the task before him, but with cheerful 
confidence in his ability to see it through somehow. 

While he ate, the boys gathered about him, plying 
him with questions, and soon had the full story of 
his trip and the circumstances of his finding the in- 
jured boy. He learned that they were a troop of 
Albany scouts, three full patrols, that the man was 
Mr. Wade, their scoutmaster, and that Billy, or 
Four Eyes,” or “ Doc,” as he was indifferently 
called, was their First Aid ” boy, who had at- 
tained to a superlative proficiency in that art. He 
learned also that Walter, the injured boy, was, as he 
had surmised, trying to complete his fourth test for 
first-class scout, on his way back from a visit to the 
city. 

“ They have pink chalk in Albany,” said Gordon, 
haven't they?” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


73 


** Sure they have,” answered several boys. 

“We have that in Oakwood, too,” Gordon com- 
mented. 

Presently, a tall, serious-looking boy vaulted up 
on the table and began to question Gordon while he 
ate. 

“ You say you saw a footprint just as you left the 
chasm on this side?” 

“ Yes.” 

‘‘ Did you see any more of them? ” 

“ No, it was too dark in the woods. In a few 
minutes when the moon came out and the woods 
thinned out the other side of the hill I saw a wet 
spot on a stone.” 

“ Footprint? ” 

“ No — place where a turtle had been.” 

“Well, what of that?” 

“ Turtle went away.” 

“ What of it?” 

“ Somebody must have passed.” 

“ Bully for you ! ” chimed in several voices. 

“ That’s nothing,” said Gordon, encouraged. 
“ Do you know how — ” 

“Just a minute,” interrupted the serious-looking 
boy. “ After you saw the turtle mark, didn’t you 
see any other sign ? ” 

“ No,” answered Gordon. “ I was so crazy to 
get here that I didn’t look.” 


74 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘Yes, of course,” agreed the boy. “You say 
you saw the wet spot near the swamp, then you 
started up the hill crossing the road ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Have some more stew ? ” 

“ Y-es.” 

“Here, Cattell, fill her up again! He's game.” 
Then to Gordon, “ Did you find any trail up the 
hill?” 

“ No — didn't look. If I hadn't spotted you fel- 
lows from the top of the hill. I'd have gone back 
down again, most likely, and tried to pick her up, 
bird’s-eye.” 

“ You mean with the fire, the way you did be- 
fore ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

A murmur of admiring comment passed through 
the group, and one or two enthusiastic boys pounded 
Gordon on the shoulder. But the serious-looking 
boy was absorbed in thought. 

“ Whoever it was,” he finally said, “ must have 
turned down the road — or up.” 

“ Sure,” said Gordon. 

It was characteristic of him that the suspicion of 
foul play had sat but lightly in his thoughts up to 
this moment. The footprint near the chasm had 
puzzled him and he had attached a significance to 
the wet spot on the rock — perhaps a greater sig- 
nificance than it deserved. He had also wondered 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


75 


how the three slender logs, out of which he had 
fashioned the rough couch, came to be at the bot- 
tom of the chasm. But he was altogether too light- 
hearted to connect any or all of these circumstances 
with the idea of a crime. With him, tracking and 
such arts were a delightful species of amusement, 
and the idea of using these things as a means to a 
serious end had never entered his head. 

But now he realized that this serious, precise, 
calculating boy who sat at his elbow was endeavor- 
ing to squeeze information out of these trivial signs 
and make them point to the solution of a secret, the 
very existence of which Gordon had hardly sus- 
pected. He perceived, somewhat to his annoyance, 
that he had only noticed those things which appealed 
to his romantic love of woodcraft, and that certain 
other things which Harry Arnold might have seen 
had entirely escaped him. 

‘‘ You say the pamphlet was lying in the mud ? ” 
Yes — it — it never occurred to me how it got 
there.” 

‘‘Of course not — you were in a great hurry. 
Don’t think I’m criticising you. You’ve got the 
silver cross coming to you for what you did.” 

“ Honest — do you think so ? ” 

“ It would be a queer committee that would re- 
fuse it.” 

“ Cracky ! ” said Gordon. 

“Have another dish of stew?” 


76 


BOY SCOUTS 


N-no/’ 

Now listen. There were no tracks, prints, signs 
of any kind in the chasm? ” 

No, the mud was so thick it would close right 
up. Besides — ” 

'‘Yes, I understand; you were busy and excited, 
and you did fine. But I’ll tell you something that 
you didn’t know. That boy had forty dollars with 
him to buy a canoe. At least, I suppose he had it. 
He intended to get it while he was at home.” 

"You think somebody robbed him?” said Gor- 
don. 

" I think it’s likely. There were two young men 
here, strangers, just dropped in on us a few days 
ago. Walter and the rest of us talked pretty freely 
about his trip to Albany.” 

"Yes, and he said he was going to get the 
money,” chimed in another boy . 

" He expected to come back last night, too,” said 
another. 

" Who were the strangers ? ” Gordon ventured. 

"No idea,” answered one of the boys, " except 
that they said they were hunting. They were coun- 
try fellows,” he added quickly. 

Most of the boys, including Gordon, had now re- 
paired to the camp-fire, which was blazing cheer- 
fully. There was a slight constraint among them, 
caused by their suspense and uncertainty as to the 
news Mr. Wade would bring them; and Gordon, 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


77 

despite his native buoyancy, felt the influence of this 
atmosphere. 

Presently, the tall, serious boy (the others called 
him Al), who had been pacing back and forth like 
an animal in its cage, suddenly paused and spoke to 
Gordon. The question that he asked, however, was 
destined to lead him on to very dangerous ground, 
as he soon found. 

“ Where did you say your friend is now ? ” 

“ He kept to the straight road north from Ticon- 
deroga,” Gordon answered. “ He was to wait for 
me where the road I took joined his again — right 
under Dibble Mountain.” 

‘‘ Now this road you crossed coming up the hill 
yonder — do you know where that goes? Well, 
if you had taken it and turned to your right, you 
would have made a long, sweeping curve and 
brought up under Dibble Mountain on the same road 
where your friend is waiting, about a quarter of a 
mile above him.” 

‘‘Then that’ll be the best way for me to get to 
him,” commented Gordon. “ I must start along as 
soon as your scoutmaster gets back. He’ll be won- 
dering what’s become of me.” 

“ How long do you suppose he’s been waiting? ” 

“ Close on to an hour, I guess, but he knew I was 
going to stop to make inquiries.” 

“ Then you think he’s still there ? ” 

“ Guess so.’^ 


78 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ Don’t think he’ll get rattled because you haven’t 
shown up ? ” 

He never gets rattled,” said Gordon, contemptu- 
ously. 

The boys smiled. 

“ He understands the Morse code — probably ? ” 

To this question Gordon disdained to reply ex- 
cept in a very general way. “ He understands ev- 
erything,” said he. 

“ Bully for him ! ” called several of the boys. 

‘‘He’s the real thing, all right,” commented an- 
other. 

Gordon was conscious of the suggestion of 
“ jollying ” in these remarks, and his answer was 
not altogether tactful ; but he had been touched in a 
sensitive spot, for he could tolerate no question as 
to Harry’s all-round proficiency. 

“ He can do anything he tries,” he said vehe- 
mently. “ He’s been down Long Island Sound in a 
canoe; he lived in a lumber camp — he was lost in 
the Canadian woods once — he knows all about 
South Africa — he swam three hundred miles, I 
mean yards — and shot the rapids — and — and 
— he can make a rice pudding ! ” That was the 
best he could do for Harry on the impulse of the 
moment, and he paused to take breath. 

“ Did he use his rifle when he shot the rapids ? ” 
asked one boy, quietly. 

“ He’s been on a log jam, too,” shouted Gordon. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


79 

'‘That anything like currant jam?” inquired an- 
other. 

" He can lick any scout in — ” 

" Let up,” said Al, still pacing the ground 
thoughtfully, and the whole thing went up in a gen- 
eral laugh. It was Gordon’s fate always to be jol- 
lied, which meant (if he had only known it) that 
everybody, especially older boys, liked him. And 
on the present occasion it was done largely to re- 
lieve the suspense of waiting. 

Suddenly, however, Al paused and addressed the 
group : " Scouts, I suspect Walter has been robbed 

— by whom I don’t know. I shouldn’t like to say 
that I suspect any one in particular, but it looks 
funny. If the things our friend here noticed mean 
anything, they mean that whoever tampered with 
the bridge and then went through Walter’s pockets 
after he fell, came in this direction till he reached 
the road on the other side of the hill. If there had 
been any trail over the hill, I think our young friend 
here would have found it. Now, if somebody 
turned into the road and went north, he’s making a 
long circuit to Dibble Mountain. There’s no cross- 
road, and he’ll come out on the road where this fel- 
low’s friend — ” 

" He’s patrol leader of the Beavers,” said Gordon. 

" Yes, — where the Beavers’ patrol leader is sup- 
posed to be waiting.” 

" Well ? ” said several voices, 


8o 


BOY SCOUTS 


''Well, you see that hill? I propose to send a 
Morse message to that fellow from the top of the 
hill. I think if he’s still where we think he is, he 
could see it; even if he was farther along the road, 
he could see it. There’s just about one chance in 
fifty that the scheme will pan out right. But I pro- 
pose right now to flash a Morse message northeast 
from the hill. The top of the hill is bare. If this 
Oakwood scout is anywhere along that farther road, 
he ought to see it. Whether we can make our mean- 
ing clear is another question. If he sees it and un- 
derstands it — well, here, wait a minute.” He en- 
tered a tent and presently came out with a paper 
on which he had written something. This he read 
aloud. 

" Camp here. Take first road north. Notice 
strangers. Scout robbed. Am safe. Lord.” 

" How does that strike you ? ” said he, as a dozen 
boys crowded eagerly about him. 

Gordon was all excitement. He had used the 
Morse code as a plaything many a time, but now it 
was to flash a message through the night, over wood 
and valley, perhaps to outwit a criminal. It was to 
sweep aside darkness and distance, and take a short 
cut to the country under Dibble Mountain. If 
Harry was still there and saw it and read it, he 
would go a quarter of a mile or so along the road, 
to where it met the circling road from the hill, and 
watch any one who might pass. He thought of the 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


8i 


boy at the other end, waiting in the darkness of a 
strange country. And his heart beat with anxiety 
lest, for some reason, the plan might not carry. 
Perhaps he doubted a little the reliability of the 
Morse code. Never for an instant, at least not yet, 
did he doubt the efficiency of Harry Arnold. 

There was a rustling among the trees, and pres- 
ently the little group of rescuers appeared bearing 
the stricken scout on a stretcher. 

Come inside a minute, Al,” said Mr. Wade, in 
a low, grave voice. ‘‘ You come in, too, my boy,” 
he said to Gordon. 

There was something in his tone that almost 
frightened Gordon, and he had difficulty in control- 
ling himself as he followed A1 into one of the tents. 
There was no one there but Mr. Wade, the “ First 
Aid ” boy, Al, and Gordon. 

Walter’s been robbed, Al,” said the scoutmas- 
ter. He was thrown down the cliff — the bridge 
was fixed. He’ll get well. I want Winthrop to 
go right to Ticonderoga.” 

I’m going to flash a Morse message from the 
hill, sir,” said Al. ‘‘ This boy’s patrol leader is over 
east there somewhere. There’s a possibility that he 
might get it and watch the road.” 

‘‘ That’s right,” said Mr. Wade. “ Good idea.” 

It seemed to Gordon, however, that he did not 
have much faith in this. Al did not pause to dis- 
cuss the matter, but left the tent. Presently, he and 


82 


BOY SCOUTS 


a dozen other boys started through the woods in the 
direction of the hill. 

Gordon stood, rather uncomfortably, near the en- 
trance to the tent, not knowing what he was sup- 
posed to do. 

‘‘Did you have something to eat?” Mr. Wade 
asked. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Well, go over there a second, then ; don’t stand 
and talk to him, and I want you to go right out.” 

Gordon crossed to the stretcher where the “ First 
Aid ” boy was adjusting a bandage on Walter’s fore- 
head. Mr. Wade stood quietly by. The “ First 
Aid ” boy leaned over and whispered to the stricken 
scout, “ Here he is.” 

Gordon stood looking down into the white face. 
Presently, he was aware of a movement under the 
blanket.. The “ First Aid ” boy evidently knew 
what it meant, for he raised the covering slightly 
and a white, shaking hand appeared from beneath. 
The twitching fingers seemed to grope for a mo- 
ment, then the little finger was bent down and the 
thumb pressed over it. The hand was raised feebly 
to the shoulder, resting on the pillow. Then Gor- 
don became conscious of a film over his own eyes 
and everything seemed to glisten. He pressed his 
own little finger down with his thumb and raised 
his three middle fingers level with his shoulder. 
Then the eyes of the prostrate boy weakly closed. 
Neither spoke. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE MESSAGE OF THE FLAME 

Gordon made a bee-line through the woods in 
the direction of the hill, and presently overtook 
several of the boys, one of whom carried a lantern. 
When they reached the brow of the eminence, they 
found that preparations, under Al’s direction, were 
rapidly going forward. 

A lone sapling stood on the summit, and about 
ten feet from this they had planted a pole eight or 
nine feet high, steadying it by lines running diago- 
nally to the ground and attached to pegs. From the 
top of this pole to a branch equally high on the sap- 
ling ran a stout line on which had been placed two 
metal rings (evidently all that were available), and 
some of the boys were now busily binding willow 
withes around the line, so that presently the rope 
had half a dozen rings of one sort or another en- 
circling it. The moon had gone behind clouds 
which were fast covering the sky, and the boys 
worked almost wholly by the light of their lantern. 
But they worked rapidly, and within a few minutes 
a large square of tent canvas had been hung from 
the line, thus forming a curtain which could be 
83 


84 


BOY SCOUTS 


shifted back and forth. Its position, facing a little 
north of east, was determined by the compass, and 
was, of course, accurate so far as compass points 
were concerned. But whether Harry Arnold was 
precisely northeast, or precisely east, and just how 
far and in just what direction, there was no telling. 

Gordon looked down from the hill, over the low- 
lying woods which stretched eastward, a little north 
of where he had found his way through. He 
thought he could discern a shadowy mass which 
seemed to appear and then dissolve in the distance, 
and which he took to be Dibble Mountain. And be- 
neath him he saw a faint gray band which he knew 
to be the road. This, he now knew, inscribed a 
great curve through the woods and came out about 
a quarter of a mile above his intended meeting-place 
with Arnold. He meant, as soon as this signaling 
was finished, to set forth along the road toward Dib- 
ble Mountain. 

As he watched the rapid and rather elaborate 
preparations, he became conscious of a feeling of 
responsibility and accompanying apprehension that 
he might be held accountable in some degree if the 
signal failed to bear results. So troubled was he 
that he did not at once notice the boy who was 
kneeling behind the canvas and littering the ground 
about him with burned matches. 

Will you let me try it ? said Gordon, finally, 
coming out of his absorption. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


85 


Sure,” answered the boy, rising with alacrity. 

Gathering a number of chips which had been scat- 
tered by the ax in trimming the pole, Gordon knelt, 
crunched a piece of paper into a little, loose wad, 
and quickly, daintily constructed a tiny pyramid 
around and above it. Over this pyramid he made 
a larger one, keeping by the necessary fuel for one 
still larger. The process reminded one of the 
wooden egg enclosed by a larger one, and that by a 
still larger one, often seen at Easter time. 

Now his small hands formed a partial dome over 
the outer pyramid ; now there came a crackling and 
a little smoke, now the third pyramid was quickly 
built over the second, and Gordon watched it in- 
tently while a few little snakes of flame squirmed 
out from their inner cage. He paid no heed to the 
admiring comments of the boys about him. Like a 
true artist, his mind was fixed upon his task, not 
upon his audience. Now his hand groped behind 
him for some larger twigs. One or two he threw 
away (the boys did not know why). With those 
which met his approval still another pyramid was 
formed to receive the flames which were now escap- 
ing freely from the third pyramid. For a moment 
he studied the little mass intently, holding several 
sticks in his left hand. The thought came over him 
that presently his fire would flash the first sign in a 
message to his friend, somewhere beyond those thick 
woods, waiting, or perhaps searching, in the dark- 


86 


[BOY SCOUTS 


ness. And oh, how he hoped the fire would be seen, 
but scarcely dared to hope it would be understood. 

Presently, satisfied, he rose, and pulling an apple 
from his pocket refreshed himself with a gigantic 
bite. 

“ You’re all right,” said the tall Al, slapping him 
on the shoulder. Gordon smiled his broadest scout 
smile, with unconcealed pleasure at the older boy’s 
praise. He was the smallest boy in the group, and 
there was something about him which drew the 
others irresistibly to him. 

‘‘You’re a wonder!” shouted one, with genuine 
enthusiasm. 

“That’s nothing,” said Gordon, as he took an- 
other huge bite. I do not know where he got the 
apple. 

The fire was now coming on famously. “ Pull 
her over,” called a boy, grabbing the curtain. 
“Never mind the regular call signal — let’s begin 
and run her across the flame quick for four or five 
minutes — that’ll do to attract attention.” 

This advice was taken, for all the nice points and 
rules of the Morse signal code cannot be observed 
with a bonfire on a hilltop. They pulled the curtain 
rapidly from side to side, alternately revealing and 
concealing the blaze, and skillfully relieving each 
other from time to time, for it required some 
strength and a good deal of agility. 

As Gordon stood watching them, he was roused 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 87 

by a light hand on his shoulder and turned to find 
Mr. Wade standing by his side. 

You mustn’t expect too much of your friend,” 
he said in a kind of reassuring tone. It’s possible 
he’ll see this, but there’s many a slip, you know, be- 
twixt the cup and the lip. Anyway, it won’t be his 
fault.” 

‘‘ He can do ’most anything, sir,” said Gordon, 
earnestly. “ Honest, he can. If he only sees it 
he’ll—” 

‘‘Yes, of course,” said Mr. Wade; “and this is 
good practice for the boys, anyway.” 

“ But I’m going to start along toward Dibble 
Mountain just as soon as they get through this. He 
must have been waiting a couple of hours already.” 

“ Better stay with us till morning,” said Mr. 
Wade; “ you’ve done enough for one night.” 

Just then A 1 came up to ask about Walter Lee, 
the injured boy. 

“He’s doing well,” said the scoutmaster. “ The 
wound isn’t deep, and seems to be clean, thanks to 
our young runner here. It bled a good deal, though, 
and his ankle is strained. The bridge was tampered 
with, and he must have gone down as soon as he set 
foot on it. I was wondering who those fellows 
were who dropped in on us the other day. Walter’s 
pockets were empty; he says he had forty dollars. 
I’ve sent Winthrop and John down to Ti to notify 
the authorities and get a doctor. I guess they can 


88 


BOY SCOUTS 


pick their way there all right ; I told them not to try 
any Gordon Lord short-cuts. Waiter’ll be all right. 
Here, Frank,” he called, ‘‘ let A1 stand near you with 
the message in code form. Let’s see that. That’s 
all right. Now, just call the code signs and cross 
them off as they’re shown — something may come 
of this yet.” 

He started for the camp again, and it seemed to 
Gordon that he took but secondary interest in the 
signaling. He did not know whether to be glad or 
sorry for this skepticism. He felt that if the plan 
failed to carry, as he feared it would, it would be 
well to have the head of the camp there to acquit 
Harry of any blame. Gordon did not give a serious 
thought to the impression he might have made in 
this strange camp; but he was very jealous for 
Harry’s reputation, especially after the puff he had 
given it, and he wanted more than he could tell to 
have his friend do the improbable and make good. 
He had an unselfish and unqualified admiration for 
Harry, and he was sorely troubled now lest his hero 
fail in the face of these Albany scouts. 

The first letter of the message had been stamped 
upon the darkness when Gordon came out of his pre- 
occupation, and he watched the rest of the work with 
keen and nervous interest. 

Haul her over, Bill — now back again — cross 
off your dot, A1 — wait a second now — let her go 
again — that’s the ticket. Hold on now — three 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


89 


seconds — there you are. Now show her for two 
even spaces; now wait — three seconds — don’t be 
in too much of a hurry; he’ll wait if he sees it. Let 
her go again — quick now — do this one careful. 
Read her off, Al, wake up — short flash — wait — 
long flash — wait, wait! Another long flash now 
— wait — now a short one. There you are, fel- 
lows, printed right plank against the side of old Dib- 
ble Mountain, C-A-M-P! Hurrah for the Raven 
signal corps I ” 

All this involved a good deal of exercise on the 
part of several boys, but nothing happened as a re- 
sult. Gordon did not exactly expect anything to 
happen, but it seemed like a good deal of energy 
wasted. 

On the hilltop all was bustle and excitement, but 
the dark woods below and beyond, and the open 
lowland stretching farther still to the shore of the 
great lake, took not the slightest notice. Gordon 
looked over Al’s shoulder at the message. They 
had not done one-tenth of it He wondered how 
the flashes would look from a distance and thought 
how much concentration of mind it would require to 
make head or tail of it. Though he was a scout of 
the scouts, he found that he had to strain his faith 
a little to believe that anything could really come of 
this. And he was conscious of almost a feeling of 
regret that he had given quite such a glowing ac- 
count of Harry. 


90 


BOY SCOUTS 


A fresh relay of boys had started the second word. 

“ Wake up, A1 — spin her off ! ” 

Four short flashes,” said Al. 

‘'Four it is; here she goes — over and back — 
over and back — wait ! ” 

“ One short,” called Al. 

“ That’s E — now for the next.” 

“ Short, long, short,” called Al. 

“ Pull her over, Ed — now back — now a long 
one — shut her off 1 Now a short one. Next let- 
ter, Al.” 

“ Short flash.” 

“ Correct for Albert. Over and back — seat 
your partner ! ” 

“ ‘Camp here ! ’ ” shouted a boy, enthusiastically. 

Thus the work went cheerfully on. It required 
precision, exertion. It was close to half an hour 
when they reached the end. 

“ How do you spell your name ? ” said Al ; 
“ G-o-r-d-o-n?” 

“ Put it ‘ Kid,’ ” Gordon answered ; that’s 

shorter and it’s what he always calls me.” 

A sudden inspiration seized Al. “Here,” he 
said ; “ come and sign your own name.” 

Gordon hesitated, then went forward. The boys, 
catching the spirit of the thing, fell back, while Al 
himself took the other end of the curtain. Gordon 
hauled the canvas over, revealing the flame long 
enough to indicate the dash. Then came the short 


ON LAKE CHAMPEAIN 


91 


Hash, then the dash again. He almost heard 
Harry’s quick, low voice, saying, Hello, Kid,” as 
he paused before the middle letter. 

** Forward and back,” called a boy. 

Gordon’s scout smile broadened into its wonted 
crescent as his small hands worked the two short 
flashes. 

‘‘ Hurrah for the Oakwoods ! ” several fellows 
shouted, and Gordon smiled still more broadly, as 
he always did when encouraged or jollied or praised. 

Dash and two dots,” said Al. 

And the name that Harry Arnold always called 
him had been flashed forth over woods and valley 
and meadow, toward the now invisible Dibble 
Mountain and Lake Champlain. 

That night the Ravens, of whom Al Wilson was 
patrol leader, doubled up with the Elephants. The 
Elephant patrol consisted of smaller boys and was 
sometimes facetiously called the infant class. The 
whole six of them were tenderfeet with a vengeance, 
and Mr. Wade usually slept in their tent. This 
night, however, he shooed the Ravens into the Ele- 
phants’ quarters so that Walter Lee, himself, and 
the First Aid ” boy might have a tent to them- 
selves. But some of the Ravens roosted out under 
the trees. 

The Elephant patrol was a great institution, and 
their leader, Frankie Haines, was fully aware of this 
fact. He attended all the officers’ meetings in the 


92 


'BOY SCOUTS 


tepee, and on one memorable occasion had sat on a 
troop committee. The Elephants’ flag was flaunt- 
ingly displayed outside their stronghold ; they took a 
mighty pride in their name and were very clannish, 
and hung much together. They were all very 
punctilious about their uniforms. Indeed, they fur- 
nished so much wholesome entertainment to the 
third patrol that the boys of that division had found 
it impossible to limit their smiles to the require- 
ments of Section 8, Scout Law, and were known as 
the Laughing Hyenas. 

It was with the Hyenas that Gordon was to spend 
the rest of the night. It was with difficulty that he 
had been persuaded to give up his intention of going 
in search of Harry; but Mr. Wade realized that he 
stood in need of rest. To save Harry Arnold from 
anxiety, however, he offered to send two of the 
camp boys to the meeting place at Dibble Moun- 
tain. So Cattell and another boy had started north 
along the road, it being agreed that if they found 
no trace of Harry near the junction of the two 
roads they should return to camp early in the morn- 
ing. 

If the Laughing Hyenas had been cast to sleep 
with the Elephants, there is no telling what might 
have happened. But the Elephants and the Ravens 
got along very well considering, and it was as good 
as a circus to see the older boys coming in, one by 
one, and making the full salute to Frankie. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


93 


The Elephants had looked upon Gordon as in 
some measure their especial property, and felt that 
his glory was their glory, for he was younger than 
any of the camp boys save themselves, and small for 
his age. It would have pleased them to extend the 
hospitality of their tent to the honored guest and 
strut a little in consequence, but Mr. Wade’s order 
was not to be questioned. 

Gordon lay among the Hyenas, who had given 
him a rousing welcome to their tent, and listened to 
their talk about the accident at the chasm and the 
sending of the Morse message. One by one, voices 
dropped out of the discussion as their owners fell 
asleep, until only three talked on in the darkness. 

He’s all right,” said one, and a mighty clever 
little fellow. He seems to have an idea that his 
chum is just as smart as he is himself.” 

He thinks the world of his patrol leader, all 
right,” said another. I don’t suppose there’s one 
chance in a thousand of that fellow’s catching the 
message.” 

‘‘ Oh, he might have seen the fire,” put in another, 
“ but whether he could follow it is another question. 
It was pretty long for a fire message.” 

‘‘Yes, and even if he got the sense of it, he’d be 
a wonder if he did anything.” 

“ What could he do, anyway ? ” 

“ He can make a rice pudding.” 

“ Sure he can ! ” 


94 


BOY SCOUTS 


“Well, it was good sport sending the message, 
anyway, but jiminy, my arm is stiff! 

“ Silence there between decks ! called a new 
voice. 

“ Ralph, the bos’n, as I live ! Thought you were 
asleep, Ralph.” 

“ I bet A1 Wilson could have caught those flashes 
and spelled them out, all right.” 

“ You bet he could.” 

Presently the voices ceased altogether, and Gor- 
don lay in his comer near the wall of the tent, 
thinking over all that had happened since he parted 
from Harry. He had made a great hit with this 
Albany troop, greater than he supposed, but his mind 
was by no means at ease. He thought of his chum 
waiting or searching for him with no clue to his 
whereabouts, and of how Harry must spread his 
balloon silk shelter and lie down alone, perplexed 
and anxious about himself. And here was he, rest- 
ing on a springy cot after a goodly supper of hunt- 
ers' stew. And he had allowed two strangers to go 
out in the night to find and make explanations to his 
friend. Oh, how he hoped that by some fortunate 
chance Harry had caught the message and actually 
understood it. 

Of course, he had no doubt as to his duty after 
finding the stricken Walter. But perhaps he ought 
to have gone first to meet Harry, and then together 
they could have followed the trail of the pink ar- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


95 


row. He made up his mind that as soon as morn- 
ing came he would take this road under the hill and 
go straight to Dibble Mountain, and if Harry were 
not there he would track him and find him. “ I can 
do it all right,” he assured himself; “thafs noth- 
mg. 

During the excitement of the evening, his chief 
desire had been that Harry should do a mighty feat 
in the face of all odds, and show these Albany fel- 
lows what a winner he really was. But now he 
found himself growing more and more doubtful of 
the possibility of this and thinking only of Harry’s 
anxiety when he did not appear. 

Still, he dreaded the morning, when the boys 
would doubtless speak indulgently of Harry, cheer- 
fully humoring his own hero-worship, and probably 
feeling in their hearts that his friend’s greatness ex- 
isted chiefly in his own mind. ‘‘If they only knew 
of the things he has done,” he thought; “if they 
only knew.” 

Then, for the first time, he fell to thinking of the 
robbery. It was inconceivable to his honest, buoy- 
ant soul. Never had he been brought so close to a 
crime before. Some one who knew that Walter 
Lee would be coming through the woods with money 
had tampered with the bridge and lurked about un- 
til the boy fell insensible, then robbed him, and left 
him, perhaps to die. He began to realize the horror 
of the thing now. He thought of Walter, as he had 


96 


BOY SCOUTS 


found him, lying stark and white in the muddy 
chasm. For all he knew, Harry might now be ly- 
ing, bleeding and unconscious, in some gully where 
he had fallen searching for his recreant friend. 
Sleep was out of the question. 

He hastily pulled on his clothing, raised the wall 
of the tent, and crept softly out, stumbling into the 
drain ditch. A few yards away a gleam of light 
shone from a tent upon the Ravens’ patrol flag just 
outside. Gordon stood at a distance looking in. 
Walter Lee lay on a cot in the center, and the 
First Aid ” boy stood near making jerky motions 
as if hammering tacks. Then he placed something 
in Walter’s mouth. It seemed to Gordon that Wal- 
ter was smoking a cigarette — strange doings for a 
boy scout ! Then he saw that the “ First Aid ” boy 
had been shaking down the mercury in the clinical 
thermometer, preparatory to taking his patient’s 
temperature. 

This First Aid” boy had not mixed with the 
others, had hardly spoken to any one during the 
evening. He had shown no interest in the signal- 
ing, nor even in the robbery. Apparently he had 
no intention of sleeping. He wore above the elbow 
of his right arm one of the grandest badges that a 
boy scout can seek — the ambulance badge. 

“ I wish Dr. Brent could see that fellow,” thought 
Gordon. He was always ready to admire others. 
In a corner of the tent under a lantern sat Mr. Wade 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


97 


writing. Gordon wondered if he were writing to 
Walter Lee’s parents. A faint odor of carbolic 
from the tent mingled with the pure, still air of the 
night. It was very quiet within. The First Aid ” 
boy made no sound as he moved about. I wish I 
knew that fellow’s name,” said Gordon. 

He crept away into the woods and up the hill, 
where the fire — a long period to the message, as A1 
called it — was still burning, — a useless beacon, as 
it seemed. He went down the other side of the hill 
to the road, took out his jack-knife, opened both 
blades, and stuck one of them into the earth. 
Kneeling, he fixed his teeth on the other blade. 
There was no vibration, no sound which could pos- 
sibly be construed into a distant footfall. He tried 
it again, fifty yards or so along the road, with the 
same result. 

Slowly he trudged up the hill again, pulled up his 
stocking, and stood by the fire. In the woods below 
he could distinguish the faint gleam of the lantern in 
the open tent. There was no sound but the low 
sputtering of the blaze and the distant hoot of an 
owl. Gordon sat down and clasped his hands 
around his drawn-up knees. 

“ These fellows don’t know how hard it is to 
shoot rapids and ride logs down a river,” he said. 

He did not even have an apple to comfort him. 


CHAPTER IX 


HARRY ARNOLD, SCOUT 

Harry Arnold sat on a rock by the roadside, eat- 
ing raisins out of a small pasteboard box. On the 
ground lay his canvas pack, and against it leaned his 
rifle. The air was brisk, for the night was well 
along, but he wore no jacket, and the double row of 
pearl buttons on his blue flannel shirt shone occa- 
sionally in the fitful gleams of moonlight. The 
moon was working like a suffragette for its rights, 
but was continually being effaced by the clouds 
which were rapidly coming to monopolize the sky. 
If the breeze continued to increase Harry would, 
perhaps, compromise with it by getting out a thin 
sweater, but under no circumstances would he so far 
yield as to put on a coat. The matter of attire was 
his weak point, and his total absence of any interest 
in the scout regalia was the source of a great deal of 
sorrow to Gordon. 

Once he tightened the thin book-strap which he 
used for a belt and put his belt ax into his canvas 
bag. Once he leaned and fastened the laces in his 
mooseskin moccasins. He was as slender as a boy 
98 


BOY SCOUTS 


99 

could be without being noticeably thin, — gracefully 
slender, one would say. 

At the present moment he was just passing from 
the stage of mild curiosity into that of anxiety for 
his young friend. For, making full allowance for 
delays caused by inquiries and for Gordon’s inde- 
pendent propensity to amble along in search of 
treasure, he was already very much overdue. 

“ I bet he shows up with a fifty-cent piece that 
he’s found, or a lady’s buckle, or a rusty jack-knife,” 
said Harry. 

But Gordon did not show up with any of these 
things, and when an hour and a half had gone by 
and still he did not come, Harry became seriously 
anxious. He knew Gordon’s tendency to jump the 
track, as he called it, and he thought it not at all im- 
probable that he would any minute hear, from the 
thicket, the hollow hand clap, merging into a rub- 
bing sound, which so accurately simulated the noise 
made by a four-footed beaver. It had cost the pa- 
trol some trouble and not a little expense to get this 
sound from first sources, and learn to make it, and 
you might practise it a week and not fool a beaver ; 
but Gordon had it pat. 

So Harry did not think it wise to leave the spot 
for long at a time. At length, however, he tied a 
wisp of grass around a sapling, and concealing his 
bag in the undergrowth started down the road along 
which Gordon should come. A walk of fifteen min- 


lOO 


[BOY SCOUTS 


utes brought him to a house where a dog barked at 
him vociferously. He did not waken the inmates, 
for he knew that if Gordon had passed or called at 
the house, he would have heard the distant barking. 
Another fifteen or twenty minutes brought him to a 
ramshackle building, the home of one of the un- 
prosperous farmers of the district. Here he made 
inquiries, but the farmer, roused from his sleep, was 
very brief and surly and had seen no one. Harry 
thanked him with unaffected courtesy and went on. 

What surprised him most was that the occasional 
moonlight showed him no footprints. After a few 
minutes he came to a little opening at the left of the 
road and, straining his eyes, looked down through 
a vista of trees which ran through the woods at a 
direct right angle from the road. This reminded 
him that he had looked through a similar vista on 
the west side of the straight road on which he had 
gone north. So there was evidently a woodland 
track connecting the two roads he and Gordon had 
taken, which did not show on the map. Turning 
rather abruptly into this woodland byway were two 
wide concave tracks. He walked a little farther 
down the road and in a flare of moonlight discov- 
ered a perfect carnival of footprints. They faced in 
every direction, north, south, east, west. There 
were scoopy indentations showing the heel counter 
of a shoe, and little points in the ground, indicating 
the downward thrusts of a toe. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


lOI 


There’s only one thing lacking,” said Harry ; “ I 
wonder where she waited.” He walked over to the 
stone wall and picked up a little reticule containing, 
on hasty inspection, sixteen cents, a handkerchief, 
and a bottle of smelling salts. This he thrust into 
his pocket. He also thrust his hands into his pock- 
ets and smiled. 

I bet he enjoyed this,” he soliloquized; “I 
can just see him standing here watching — and wait- 
ing for a chance to spring a good turn.” 

He was perfectly satisfied that an auto had broken 
down. He picked out where a man had lain on his 
stomach, had knelt, had lain on his back. He put 
big prints and little prints together, like a picture 
puzzle, and made human attitudes out of them. And 
he concluded that this interesting exhibition, right 
in Gordon’s line, was accountable for the boy’s de- 
lay. The auto had evidently turned down the 
wooded byway in order to get into the better road. 
That Gordon should have abandoned his investiga- 
tions to be carried to his destination in an auto 
seemed hardly probable, except on the theory that he 
was on the trail of a good turn. But what other 
explanation was there? 

Acting on this theory, he turned back, sure that he 
would find Gordon waiting for him. When he was 
within hailing distance of the point where the roads 
converged he made the Beaver call, and was sur- 
prised that it was not answered. Presently he 


102 


SOY SCOUTS 


reached the spot. The rock was empty, the wisp of 
grass was as he had left it on the sapling. The 
moon was behind a cloud now, so he lit a match and 
examined the eastern road. There were the auto 
tracks, but running along one of these with lighted 
matches for fifty yards or so (covering the spot 
where the two roads met), he could find no inter- 
ruption in the concave line. The auto had not 
stopped. It had gone straight on along the road 
which skirted Dibble Mountain. 

Now, Harry was truly alarmed and more than 
perplexed. It was late at night, the moonlight was 
fitful and uncertain, it was more often pitch dark 
than not. He did not like to give up and rig his 
shelter for the night. Idly he picked up the empty 
raisin box. Above him rose almost sheer the grim, 
black side of the mountain. Soon he must eat 
something, at any rate, for he was cruelly hungry. 

“ Kid,” he said aloud, ‘‘ where are you, anyway? ” 

And then, on the minute, the answer came. Over 
in the west — a mile — two — three, — he did not 
know, — there flickered a tiny light in the darkness. 
Presently it grew larger, then disappeared, then 
came again. Half interested, in his preoccupation, 
he waited for it to reappear. Now it came and 
went, rapidly, in alternate flashes. He looked be- 
hind him into the east to see if there were any an- 
swering light, but the flame came jumping out faster 
and faster, as if to say, ‘‘ Look here, you — I have 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


103 


something to say — wait/’ He waited, and when 
it came again it stayed, one, two seconds. Instantly 
he was on his feet. It disappeared and showed 
again for just a fraction of a second, then flared 
steadily, then showed for another fraction of a sec- 
ond. He watched it intently as it came and went. 
Now came a longer pause between the flashes. 

And on the bottom of the little raisin box that 
Harry held he had written with the lead of a rifle 
cartridge the letters CAMP. 

He did not write the arbitrary signs for transla- 
tion later ; he took the message in plain English, with 
never doubt or hesitancy, and in good time he had 
it all. 

All right. Kid,” he said, smiling; ‘‘glad to hear 
from you,” and dropped the cartridge into his 
pocket. 

He was much relieved, of course, and very curi- 
ous. Taking his pack and rifle, he ran up the road 
until he came to the first turn. The distant fire now 
burned steadily, though not as high as before, and 
he could see that the road he had reached must lead 
in its direction. He was to go down this road and 
watch any one he met. He hid his pack near the 
roadside, took his rifle, and crept stealthily along 
through the trees which bordered the road. His 
toes, free and pliant in their soft moccasins, pinned 
and held the twigs on which he stepped and he made 
no sound. Now and then a low, sudden scurrying 


104 


BOY SCOUTS 


told him that he had disturbed some smaller creature 
of the wood, but save for these trifling sounds he 
walked in perfect silence. 

The moon edged slowly from behind a cloud. 
“ That’s right,” he whispered, bully for you — be 
a scout — come on out and help.” Perhaps the 
moon was influenced by his persuasive words and 
felt that such a boy on such a business and against 
such odds was entitled to all the help that she could 
give. In any event, she sailed majestically clear of 
her incumbrances and, as sure as you live, smiled a 
broad scout smile down upon Harry Arnold. 

Now you’re talking,” commented Harry. Keep 
it up and I’ll see you get the bronze medal — only 
keep it up.” 

He crept up to the road and looked for foot- 
prints, but found none of recent making. His in- 
formation was pitiably meager. A scout had been 
robbed, and it was evidently suspected that the rob- 
ber or robbers had taken this road. That was all he 
knew. No one had passed here lately, that was 
sure. He assumed that the signalers had good rea- 
son to believe that some one had taken this direction. 
He figured that he could get to the vicinity of the 
fire inside of an hour. So it would work the same 
the other way. He would conceal himself and 
watch the road for an hour. If he saw no one, he 
would simply assume that the robber had not taken 
the open road. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


105 


Now, if he had carried out this plan, he would 
shortly have seen the two boys who had set out to 
find him. But Harry Arnold, Scout, was a mile 
off the road when these boys passed, and this is how 
it happened. 

Before settling down to watch the road, he no- 
ticed a small bridge a few yards farther along under 
which a stream flowed. You could canoe from the 
Albany scouts’ camp to Lake Champlain on this 
stream, but Harry knew nothing of the Albany 
camp. For all he knew, the Morse message had come 
from the Oakwood scouts. In quest of a draught of 
water, he went stealthily down the bank. He knelt, 
looked at the water, felt of it, and shook his head. 
Then he stood on the brink of the stream with his 
two hands resting on the bridge, which was about 
level with his shoulder. Thus he craned his neck, 
looking up and down the road. Satisfied, he 
vaulted silently up to the planking. His spring was 
as graceful and agile as a panther’s. Instinctively, 
he looked down to see if he had left any sign, for it 
is part of the A B C of scouting to leave no clue be- 
hind, whatever your business, except what you 
leave for a purpose. There on the edge of the 
planking were the wet prints of his two hands. 

Humph,” said he, and studied them closely. Then 
he knelt, felt of one, daintily, softly, and brushed 
his two hands together. ‘‘Dried quick,” said he. 
He leaped down to the bank and felt of the water. 


io6 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ Tisn^t so muddy, either.’’ He placed his hands on 
the planking over the two marks. They did not 
match his. ‘‘ I didn’t think I had a paw like that,” 
he said. 

He looked beneath him on the bank where the 
dank grass was flattened. “Too clumsy to vault 
it,” was his comment. “ One of those big gawking 
country jays, I guess.” He crept up the bank to 
the road, where the moonlight flickered down 
through the branches of a willow tree. Reaching 
up, he wriggled a broken limb, then smilingly kicked 
a small twig that lay in the road. Crossing, he 
found a ruffled place, half in the road and half in 
the bordering growths, where the brush seemed to 
be trampled down. All this he examined in an 
amused, half-careless way. Presently he took a 
short run and leaped across the road. “ Easy 
enough,” he said. Stooping, he carefully examined 
the ground and rose triumphant, holding a small, flat 
paper package in his hand. “ Maunabasha ! ” he 
whispered to himself. (Maunabasha was the good 
Indian spirit that occasionally smiled on his endeav- 
ors. ) He lighted a match and read the lettering on 
the package : 

FARMER’S FRIEND PLUG CUT 
THE TOBACCO OF QUALITY 
A SOLACE TO THE TIRED TOILER 
THE AROMA OF THE HARVEST FIELD 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 107 

Harry took a whiff of the aroma of the harvest 
field. ‘‘ The harvest field could sue for damages on 
that,” he thought. But despite his scout prejudice 
against tobacco, he was forced to admit that this 
little package had done him a good turn. Here was 
the unmistakable proof of a human presence, and it 
_ had not been here long, for it was fresh, unstained, 
and dry. 

He put it in his pocket and went down the bank 
into the long meadow grass that skirted the river. 
It was easy enough for him to see where some one 
had preceded him here. The tall bent grass showed 
the trail plainly. He plodded on through this 
marshy patch till presently he found himself on the 
dry, abrupt shore of the river. Naked roots pro- 
jected here and there, worn smooth with the fric- 
tion of feet, and he was able to pick out a beaten 
path which ran along the stream’s edge. But the 
earth was hard and there was no sign of footprint. 
Stooping, he examined the ground carefully and 
presently discovered something which brought him 
to his hands and knees. This was a little mark in 
the earth about two inches long, knobby at one end 
and pointed at the other, as if some one had at- 
tempted to draw a pollywog in the sand. But 
Harry knew it for the imprint of a nail. He took 
an ordinary stride and found another one — then 
another. There was no sign of shoeprint, for the 
earth was too hard, but he found the nail impres- 


io8 


•BOY SCOUTS 


sions, printed crosswise for, maybe, half a rriile. 
Then one appeared lengthwise and he turned up 
from the path. 

So far, so good. But here was a stubbly field 
with never sign of trail or footprint. He tied his 
handkerchief to a branch of a tree where the trail 
ended and walked straight ahead for a few feet un- 
til he discovered a dim light flickering through the 
trees, which proved to come from the upper win- 
dow of a small, dilapidated house. Under the trees 
in the little grove which surrounded it, he saw a 
stooping figure. He advanced stealthily to the edge 
of the grove and watched. By the light from the 
window he could see clearly a burly country fellow 
of, maybe, twenty-five years, who drew something 
from his pocket and, lifting the edge of a flat stone 
from the ground, placed it underneath. Harry 
skirted the grove without making a sound and 
reached a point in front of the stranger and about 
fifty feet from him. Here he stood behind a tree, 
watching the fellow as he packed some loose earth 
under the edge of the stone. Then, gliding noise- 
lessly from one tree to another, he presently stood 
before the stooping figure, now pressing the stone 
down with all the strength of both arms. He spoke 
in the low, nonchalant, half -interested tone that was 
characteristic of him : 

“Hello, what are you doing?” 

The fellow sprang to his feet, amazed at this ap- 



“‘HELLO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’” 





ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


109 

parition which seemed to have dropped from the 
clouds. 

‘‘ M-me?” 

‘‘ Yes, you — what are you doing? 

‘‘ Who are you, anyway — what are you doing 
here?’’ 

‘‘I’m standing here,” said Harry, quietly. His 
manner was easy and his voice low, almost sociable. 
‘‘ What are you doing, digging a hole ? ” 

The fellow instantly became as excited as Harry 
was calm, and tried to hide his confusion under a 
torrent of abuse. 

‘‘ I guess you’re one of them scout fellers that’s 
always puttin’ their noses in other folks’ business. 
Do ye know ye’re on private land ? I thought them 
scout fellers had a rule not to trespass. You get 
out of this double quick, or I’ll fix yer. You can’t 
prowl round this farm in the middle of the night — 
you nor none of yer hifalutin crew. What are ye 
doin’ here, anyway — where d’ye come from ? ” 
How do you know ‘ them scout fellers ’ have a 
rule not to trespass ? ” asked Harry, gently. 

‘‘ That’s all right, how I know.” 

“ You’ve met some of them ? ” 

None o’ your business ! ” 

‘‘You’ve seen one or two of them quite lately?” 
Harry asked, with just a touch of sharpness in his 
voice. 

The fellow saw that he had fallen into a trap. 


no 


BOY SCOUTS 


Almost in his first sentence he had admitted a knowl- 
edge of the boy scouts, and he stood embarrassed 
before Harry’s rather contemptuous smile. 

“ Are you goin’ ter clear out o’ this or not ? ” 
Not,” said Harry. 

The fellow stooped and picked up a rock. Harry 
did not move. He dropped the rock and put his 
hand around to his hip pocket. Harry also put his 
hand in his hip pocket, and the fellow started back. 

“ Here, is this yours ? ” said Harry, tossing him 
the package of tobacco. “ What’s the matter — 
did you think I was going to shoot you?” 

They stood contemplating each other, Harry 
quietly amused, the other afraid to speak lest he 
say too much. 

The countryman put the package in his hip pocket. 
I thought you had plenty of room there,” said 
Harry; ‘‘no pistol after all, eh? You see, you 
shouldn’t have picked up the rock. That was a bad 
move, because men with pistols in their pockets 
don’t pick up rocks. And I have nothing but this 
rifle and I’m not going to use it. I’d no more think 
of using it than I would of using that tobacco. The 
only dangerous thing you have about you is your 
‘ Farmer’s Friend Plug Cut,’ and it’s no friend to 
you either, for it gave you dead away.” 

“ You think you can come up here with your city 
gab, don’t you, and scare honest folks on their own 
land, that don’t trespass, nor ask no favors, neither.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


III 


The scouts been asking for milk — or maybe 
water ? ” Harry asked, smiling. What made you 
think you might be tracked? Because you knew 
there were scouts about ? ” 

‘‘Who said I thought I’d be tracked? I ain’t 
a-scared to have my spoor follered — ” 

“ Where did you learn that word — spoor ? ” 
Harry’s voice and manner were now a little sharp. 
Every time the fellow spoke he was tripped up. The 
more he said, the more he gave himself away. The 
active mind of his inquisitor balked and confounded 
him, and he had no resource except in a tirade or an 
attack, and these he wished to avoid, partly from 
genuine fear of this strange boy, and partly because 
he had no wish that the altercation be heard in the 
house. Harry saw that he had him. And he went 
on, speaking in short, choppy sentences, looking 
the other right in the eye, and sending each word 
straight to its mark like an arrow. He had no more 
fear or hesitancy than if he were talking to an in- 
fant. The great creature who stood before him 
looked at him as a grizzly bear might look at its 
keeper. 

“Look here now. In the first place, you didn’t 
come down the road. Why not? When you had 
to cross it, you tried to vault up to the bridge and 
went down like a bag of oats. Then you tried to 
swing across the road like a monkey and went down 
again like a bag of meal. Why were you so anx- 


II2 


^OY SCOUTS 


ious not to leave a footprint, eh? Then, after all 
that trouble, you left the ‘ Farmer’s Solace ’ — or 
whatever you call it — Plug Cut, and went down 
the bank marking out a trail as clear as Broadway. 
Then, when I show up, the first thing you tell me 
is the rules of the boy scouts ? What do you know 
about the boy scouts? You’ve been trying to imi- 
tate them with your smattering about ‘ spooring.’ 
Who said anything about spooring? Hold on, now 
— I know what you’re going to say. Of course, 
there’s no crime in all that. You can come down 
the road standing on your head for all I care, but 
just the same I’m going to see what’s under that 
stone.” 

I thought a scout feller was supposed — ” 

Oh, a scout fellow is supposed to put this and 
that together,” Harry interrupted with some im- 
patience; ‘‘ and if you think I came here for the ben- 
efit of my health you’re mistaken.” 

He stepped toward the stone and saw the other 
look apprehensively at the house. His predicament 
was a sore one, and Harry had foreseen and counted 
on it. If he precipitated a scuffle, it would rouse 
the inmates of the house. If he didn’t, the game 
was up. He fell back on the only course open to 
him — a weak attempt at explanation. 

Haven’t I got a right to pick up what I find, 
hey ? What business have you got to trac — fol- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


113 

low me, anyway? Haven’t I got a good right to 
bring home anything I find ? ” 

Harry disdained to answer. Kneeling, he raised 
the edge of the stone. But the wretched boy who 
watched him could not quite stand by and see that 
done. He put his big hand on Arnold’s shoulder, 
and roughly thrust him back. Like lightning Har- 
ry’s hand was on his ankle. He tripped, staggered 
clumsily, and went down with a thud. When he 
had pulled himself together Harry was standing a 
few feet away examining his find, but keeping a 
weather eye on his new acquaintance. There was 
a wallet containing money and a letter. The wal- 
let and the money he thrust into his pocket; the 
letter he read as best he could by the light from the 
window. It was dated several days before, and 
read : 

Dear Walter , — 

I have no objection to the canoe if Mr, Wade 
approves. You say several others have them. 
You had better take Al Wilson to Ticonderoga 
with you and be sure you are getting a good one. 
I should say the one you mention would be a bar- 
gain if it is in good condition. 

Your examination papers are here and I want to 
talk over this matter of the mathematics with you. 
Suppose you run down home over Sunday. You 


BOY SCOUTS 


114 

could go hack Monday or Tuesday, and Til give you 
the money while you are here. 

Yours, 

Father. 

All this was a puzzle to Harry, for there was no 
Walter in the Oakwood troop. But he betrayed 
not the slightest surprise as he spoke to the other 
boy. 

‘‘So you stole Walter’s canoe money, eh?” 

“ I found it in the road,” was the sullen answer. 
“ I was going to — ” 

“ Sure you were — you were going to hide it. 
What’s the matter — afraid to let your folks know 
you found something in the road ? ” His tone was 
full of contempt now, and he paused, in a quan- 
dary what to do. He knew he could not arrest the 
farmer boy, and he was not sure that he wanted to. 
He did not know that the crime had been all but 
murder. His only feeling was that of disgust, and 
he surveyed the great, clumsy figure before him 
from head to foot. 

“ Go on into the house,” he said impatiently. 
“ Who’s in there, your mother and father ? ” 

“ My mother.” 

“ Well, go on in and go to bed.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” the wretched 
fellow asked desperately. 

“ I don’t know what I’m going to do, if you mean 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


115 

about you. I’ve got to consult my scoutmaster. 
Go on in and go to bed — How old is your 
mother ? ” 

‘‘ She’s nearly seventy.” 

Harry surveyed him slowly, contemptuously, 
from head to foot. He did not understand dis- 
honesty. “ Well, go on in,” he repeated, ‘‘ and 
don’t wake her up. I guess you’re about through 
for to-night.” He paused, looking steadily, curi- 
ously, at the other, as one might look at a strange 
animal. Then he wheeled about and went silently 
off across the field. 

Blamed if I know who A1 Wilson is, or Walter, 
either, but if they buy a second-hand canoe in Ticon- 
deroga they get stuck. Jiminy, but that Kid’s the 
greatest! I wonder what he’s been pushing into 
now.” 

Gordon squatted before the dying signal-fire, an 
occasional gape of stupendous dimensions distort- 
ing his round face. Below him the camp slept 
peacefully. The dim light glimmered in the in- 
valid’s tent, occasionally blurred by the shadow of 
the First Aid ” boy moving to and fro. Gordon 
knew now that his mind’s-eye picture of Arnold 
arriving like a conquering hero was an extravagant 
vision. He knew that the Albany scouts knew it, 
too. 

“A1 Wilson could not have done it,” said he. 


ii6 


BOY SCOUTS 


** nor any of the rest of ’em. Nobody can do im- 
possibilities. These fellows think it’s easy to bring 
a ca-a-a-a — ” He was trying to say canoe and 
gape at the same time. 

‘‘Hello, Kid,” said a low, careless voice, almost 
in his ear. “ What are you doing here ? ” 

“ Harry!” 

“ Sure — who’d you think ? Where’ve you been, 
anyway ? ” 

“ But Harry — ” 

“ Who the dickens is Walter? ” 

The younger boy clutched his friend by the arm. 
“ Harry — I — he’s a boy here — they — did 
you — why — ” 

“ I’ve got forty dollars belonging to him. 
What’s the news, anyway ? ” 


CHAPTER X 


THE SWASTIKA 

In the morning it began, bright and early. 
Harry lay alone in the tepee, dead to the world. 
Mr. Wade had been quietly roused by Gordon and 
had accorded Harry this resting-place with strict 
instructions to pay no attention to reveille. Gor- 
don had crept back among the sleeping Hyenas. 

It started when the two boys who had gone in 
search of Harry returned to camp a few minutes 
after reveille, passing the Hyenas’ tent. 

‘‘ How’s Walter? ” they called to the one or two 
who had risen promptly. 

‘‘ All right when we turned in. Any news ? ” 

‘‘ No — couldn’t find a sign of his friend. He 
may have gone back to Ticonderoga. He didn’t 
come along this road — that’s sure.” 

‘‘ Maybe he’s up on Dibble Mountain making rice 
puddings.” 

Keep quiet, you’ll wake him.” 

All this Gordon heard in a delicious half-sleep. 

“ We met a chap on a bicycle from a summer 
place up Crown Point way — said he was hunting 
for a handbag a lady left on a stone wall — auto 


ii8 


.BOY SCOUTS 


broke down and she sat on the wall to wait for them 
to fix it/’ 

haven’t it,” called one Hyena. 

“ You can search me,” said another. 

Guess she’ll never see it again.” 

‘‘ Oh, she may, you can’t tell ; the bicycle chap 
may find it. Nobody’s likely to have noticed it on 
a stone wall at night — it’s early yet. Honest, 
didn’t you hear anything of that Oakwood chap ? ” 

‘‘ Didn’t we tell you, no ? ” 

Gone back to the log jam, I guess. The kid’ll 
be awful disappointed. He’s got the bee in his 
bonnet that his friend’s as clever as he is, — he’s a 
mighty nice little fellow.” 

** Sure, it’s fun to see him grin when you jolly 
him. Wade’s stuck on him, all right.” 

‘‘Yes, and he’s got A1 hypnotized.” 

By this time the Hyenas were dragging them- 
selves heavily from their cots and sleepily aiding 
the conversation. 

“ I’d like to know what was the use of sending 
that message, anyway. We might have known it 
wouldn’t do any good. Why, man alive, if any 
one did sneak down that road, it must have been an 
hour before we got the fire started. Chuck my belt 
over here, will you, Dan?” 

“ Well, it was good exercise, anyway. Oh, but 
my arm is stiff ! ” 

The camp was soon astir, and Gordon, wrestling 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 119 

desperately to suppress his scout smile, came forth 
with the last stragglers. He stood in the fresh 
morning air, watching the routine, which began 
early. A boy with a pointed stick moved about, 
spearing papers and depositing them in a box for 
burning. ** No news of your pal ? ” said he, as he 
passed. Gordon smiled and said nothing. An- 
other boy was hurrying here and there, filling, 
trimming, and wiping lanterns. ‘‘ Hello, Oak- 
wood,’’ he called, ‘‘guess your patrol leader was 
asleep at the switch when we sent that little fire 
note — don’t you care.” Several others were rig- 
ging a rope fence outside Walter’s tent, where a 
Red Cross flag had already been raised. Every- 
thing seemed to move like clockwork. Two boys 
came in for firewood and departed for more. One 
was sorting and chopping the pieces. Others were 
setting the long table-board with plates, while the 
savory odor of coffee came from the lean-to. Gor- 
don wandered among these early toilers, responding 
to a pleasant word or a good-natured taunt from 
each, fascinated with this first view of genuine 
camp life. 

Mr. Wade sat at a small table under a tree, while 
several scouts hovered near, waiting his leisure. A 1 
Wilson, standing at his elbow, beckoned to Gordon. 

“ Don’t you worry,” said he. No doubt your 
friend is all right. I think he may have gone into 
Ticonderoga. Most of the folks around here know 


120 


BOY SCOUTS 


our camp, and I guess you’ll see him come walking 
in before the day’s over. And don’t think that 
he ought to have made good — it was impossible.” 

“ The fellows say you could have done it,” ven- 
tured Gordon. 

“Well, I couldn’t. I might have made out the 
message, but that’s all the good it would have done 
me. None of us can do the impossible, can we, 
Mr. Wade?” 

“ Not as a rule,” said Mr. Wade, intent on his 
writing. Presently he handed three small pieces of 
birch-bark to a boy, on each of which was written 
in lead pencil, “ 10:30.” These were for the patrol 
leaders and meant, “ Come to council.” Atwell, 
leader of the Hyenas, received his while helping to 
raise the colors, and was puzzled. A 1 read his in 
silence and was puzzled, too, but knew better than 
to question his chief. Frankie, leader of the Ele- 
phants, standing in the door of his tent, took his 
with great condescension. 

“Frankie got a pretty picture card?” asked a 
passing scout. For answer, Frankie let fly a huge, 
overripe pear, which went to its mark with deadly 
precision. 

“ I suppose you know those Hyenas are a bunch 
of jolliers,” he remarked to Gordon, who stood 
near. 

“ I don’t mind that,” Gordon answered. 

“ Well, you would if you were I. But I’ve got 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


I2I 


a way to fix them. It’s my corporal’s idea. You’re 
going to be here through to-day, aren’t you? Well, 
you’ll see some fun. I’ve got to attend council at 
ten-thirty, and after that I’ve called a special patrol 
meeting to consider the plan.” 

“ Peek-a-boo, Frankie,” called a passing boy. 

‘‘ That’s one of the worst of the lot,” said 
Frankie, confidentially. 

‘‘ What’s the plan ? ” Gordon asked. 

“ You’ll see — it’ll be the Laughing Elephants 
by to-night.” 

In a little while came the call to prayers, then 
breakfast. There was a camp historian in the Al- 
bany troop whose business it was to record the do- 
ings of each day and to read the entries of the day 
before, every morning before the campers rose from 
the early meal. Since the patrols often went about 
their pleasures separately and the boys were wont 
to wander off in pairs for a day of fishing, stalking, 
or exploring, it fell out that this record often con- 
tained matter unfamiliar to the camp as a whole, and 
so its reading was awaited with interest. 

This morning, owing to the affair of Walter Lee, 
it would have a special interest. For Mr. Wade had 
been so much occupied during the evening and night 
before that none had ventured to question him. 

When the meal was finished Henry Earle, the 
historian, rose at his place and, according to custom, 
first announced the camp routine for the day. 


122 


BOY SCOUTS 


Plans for any special expeditions were submitted to 
Mr. Wade and then handed to Earle. From these 
he now read : 

The Raven patrol attends to the cooking from 
to-day until the loth inclusive. Not more than two 
members to leave camp at one time for longer than 
an hour. No sentry duty. Collins relieved of all 
patrol duties because of troop duty.** (Collins was 
‘‘ First Aid ’’ boy.) The Hyena Patrol canoes to 
the Lake this afternoon for hshing. Elephant 
Patrol to accompany them for outing and assist- 
ance.** ( Smiles from the Raven Patrol. ) " Meals 

as usual. Camp-dre yarns to-night. Blake to go 
into the village for mail and errands; must have 
commissions and letters before eleven o*clock. Pa- 
trol leaders in conference with scoutmaster at 
10:^0. No leaves of absence for this evening.** 

He thrust the papers into his pocket and took 
up his book. The brief record of Walter Lee’s re- 
turn, with the circumstances, was read. Gordon’s 
name was mentioned without comment or compli- 
ment. The troop listened attentively. 

The suspicions of robbery were entertained,** 
Earle read, because of a footprint and other signs 
near the chasm. The visit of two country boys to 
camp a few days ago and the conversation they 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


123 


heard about Walter's visiting home to get money 
for a canoe were regarded zvith some suspicion. 
It was thought that the fugitive might have taken 
the road under the hill, and as the friend and scout 
partner of Gordon Lord was supposed to he waiting 
for him on the road under Dibble Mountain, a 
Morse signal message was sent up telling Lord's 
whereabouts and asking him to watch the road. 
But the fugitive,^ it appears, did not take the road." 

At this sentence the boys started, and a stir of 
surprise passed round the board. Even the quiet 
A1 Wilson looked inquiringly at Mr. Wade. Gor- 
don wrestled valiantly with his scout smile, and 
looked straight before him. 

** At ten minutes after two this morning," the 
reader continued, a scout, Harry Arnold by name, 
leader of the Beaver Patrol, ist Oakwood, N. J., 
Troop, brought to camp and delivered to Mr. E. C. 
Wade, Scoutmaster, a wallet containing two letters 
and forty dollars belonging to Walter Lee" 

Murmurs of astonishment followed this an- 
nouncement. Gordon’s eyes were riveted upon a 
distant tree. 

The full details of how he received and read the 
Morse message, made sure that no one had gone 
along the road, traced the robber by means of hnger 


124 


BOY SCOUTS 


prints on the Hooring of a bridge, and followed his 
trail over hard land by the print of a nail embedded 
in his shoe; how he came upon the thief in the very 
act of hiding his booty near his home, took it from 
him and brought it here; these details belong to the 
history of the ist Oakwood Troop, Oakwood, N. 
J., and zvill constitute a glorious page in that 
troop's annals." 

Gordon, still looking straight before him, had 
conquered his scout smile; yet he was not wholly 
victorious, for instead his eyes were brimming over. 

“ Where is he? Where is he, anyway? ’’ shouted 
several boys, jumping up. Cattell rose, knocking 
over a cup, stumbled round the board, and clapped 
Gordon on the shoulder. “ Where is he ? ” he 
shouted. ‘‘ Let’s have a look at him.” A1 Wilson 
came around and placed his arm over Gordon’s 
shoulder, smiling, saying nothing. Some one sug- 
gested the tepee, and it was not till a roystering, 
shouting group had started in that direction that 
Gordon got himself under control. They did not 
wait for him. They had forgotten him. But Harry 
Arnold, his chum, his friend, his idol, had made 
good, as he always made good, and they were going 
to honor him. This was joy enough for Gordon. 
Then, realizing what they were bent on doing, he 
rushed pell-mell in pursuit, and coming between 
them and the closed tepee, spread out his arms. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


1^5 


You can't go in, fellows," he panted. He’s 
asleep and Mr. Wade doesn’t want him waked up. 
He’s awfully tired — honest, he is!’’ Then, as 
they paused, he said, as if on second thought, and 
so as not to make their disappointment too heavy, 
“ But if you come quiet, you can peek in and take 
a look at him if you want to.’’ 

An hour later Harry sat down to a belated but 
welcome breakfast, served by enthusiastic Ravens 
who rejoiced in their special privilege to minister to 
his comfort. A continually changing group lolled 
about the long board, asking questions and com- 
menting on his exploit. He answered all their 
questions in his easy, careless way, correcting when 
they overrated the difficulty of this or that. 

“ Oh, no,’’ he said, answering one of A1 Wilson’s 
questions, “hard ground’s better than soft when 
there’s a loose nail in a shoe or anything sticking on 
the sole — there’s nothing hard about following 
that — anybody could do it.’’ 

“That’s just like him! That’s just like him!’’ 
cried Gordon, excitedly. 

His breakfast over, Harry wandered about, a 
dozen Albany scouts surrounding him. Gordon 
walked over to the boy who was clearing the table 
and whispered to him confidentially. “ You can’t 
get him to wear a belt,’’ said he. “ Red Deer tried 
to, and his corporal gave him an alligator-skin one. 


126 


BOY SCOUTS 


but he wouldn’t wear it — he just wears that book- 
strap. And we can’t get him to wear the scout 
uniform — he likes that blue shirt, — he’s very 
funny about some things.” 

“ Eccentricities of genius,” suggested A1 Wilson, 
who stood near. 

“ He won’t even wear a coat,” said Gordon. 

‘‘ Never mind,” said Al, “ let him wear what he 
likes.” 

There was never a happier boy than Gordon Lord 
that morning. In the excitement of Harry’s com- 
ing his own adventure of the day before had fallen 
into the shadow. No one spoke of that now, but 
Harry knew about it and had praised him, and that 
was enough. He was constantly near his friend, 
feasting on the praises which Harry, much to his 
discomfort, was forced to hear. The rule requir- 
ing a scout to “ smile and look pleasant ” was 
obeyed by Gordon to the full ability of his mouth. 
But the climax of his triumph was reached as they 
sat about under a huge oak waiting for the early 
dinner which was to precede the trip down to the 
lake. Harry lolled indolently on the sward, amus- 
ing himself with mumbly-peg, and occasionally join- 
ing in the conversation. 

“ Wonder if that bicycle chap found the bag he 
was after ? ” one said. 

‘‘ Like enough — nobody’d see it in the dark and 
he was out early.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


127 


‘‘ What kind of a bag was it, anyway ? ” 

‘‘Oh, kind of — this — what do you call it — 
mesh-work, he said.” 

“Bottle of smelling salts in it?” asked Harry, 
as he twirled his jack-knife and sent it plunging 
into the earth. 

The boys stared. 

“ Sure,” answered one of those who had met the 
bicyclist. “ What do you know about it ? ” 

Harry laid the blade of his knife between two 
fingers, eyed it critically, and struck the bone handle 
with the first finger of his other hand. The knife 
made four complete somersaults and landed upright 
in the grass. 

“ Handkerchief — sixteen cents ? ” said he. 

“ Sure ! ” cried the astonished boy. 

Harry fumbled in his pocket, brought forth the 
reticule, and slung it by its chain to the boy who 
had spoken. Then he held his knife suspended 
vertically and, forming a ring with his thumb and 
finger about twelve inches below it, dropped the 
knife through the ring. 

“ Can you do that. Kid ? ” he said to Gordon, who 
sat near him. 

“ Where’d you get this bag? ” asked the boy who 
held it. 

“ Picked it up on a stone wall near where there’d 
been an automobile accident/' 


128 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ How did you know there was an automobile 
accident?’’ chimed in another. 

‘‘Oh, I don’t know — just noticed it — that is, 
the signs of it — there was an auto, that’s sure, and 
somebody doing acrobatic tricks in the road. Who 
does the bag belong to, do you know ? ” 

“ Lady in Crown Point, that’s all I know.” 

“ We’ll have to hunt her up, Kid ; here ” (hand- 
ing the knife to Gordon) “try this — it’s a good 
trick — I bet you pull your fingers away. This is 
the hardest one I ever did.” 

“ Then you admit there’s something hard you can 
do,” laughed A1 Wilson, admiringly. 

# “ Oh, yes,” Harry laughed back. “ I’m the star 

mumbly-peg player — hey. Kid ? ” And he slapped 
Gordon on the shoulder. But Gordon was too 
astonished to speak. 

The meeting of the patrol leaders with Mr. Wade 
had taken place earlier in the morning, but no one 
had been able to get a clue as to what it was all about. 
Frankie carried himself with an air of profound 
mystery — but that was for reasons of his own. 
Of course, A1 Wilson knew, but you couldn’t pry 
anything out of A1 with a crowbar. 

The dinner hour came, and it was a merry com- 
pany that gathered around the rough, tree-shaded 
board. The trip to the lake was discussed, talk of 
canoes, fishing tackle, and such things went round, 
and an occasional remark, in a particularly loud, 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


129 


significant tone, about Frankie and the Elephants, 
passed from one Hyena to another. But the Ele- 
phants paid no heed to these flippant observations. 

When Mr. Wade rose from the table, he asked 
the entire troop to gather in fifteen minutes under 
the ‘^assembly tree.’’ This was a spreading oak 
from whose low branches hung a variety of forest 
trophies, masterpieces of whittling and willow- 
working (the product of rainy afternoons), and 
other specimens of camp handiwork. About six 
feet from the ground a rough board with ragged 
ends had been fastened to the trunk, on which was 
carved the quotation: 

And this, our life, exempt from public haunts, 

Finds tongues in trees, hooks in the running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in everything. 

This had been their meeting-place ever since they 
started camp. Here two of Frankie’s patrol, the 
Stetson brothers, having come from the city to join 
the scouts, had stood in the dim, solemn light under 
the thick branches, and taken the Scouts’ Oath to do 
their duty to God and country, to help others at all 
times, and to obey the Scout Law. Here Fred 
Brownell, Hyena, had stood before the Court of 
Honor and received from Mr. Wade’s hand the 
badge for marksmanship, which Frankie’s vote had 
helped to award him. For Frankie was incorrupti- 


130 


BOY SCOUTS 


ble in the discharge of public duties, and his worst 
jollier could be sure of justice at his hands. 

The full troop always gathered here for morning 
prayers and to sing the patriotic anthem when the 
sun went down. There was always a quiet atmos- 
phere under this green roof, and the boys, as they 
straggled into the old tree’s shade, removed their 
hats and stood together in little groups. Harry and 
Gordon stood apart. 

Presently Mr. Wade came out of the tepee and 
through the assembled boys to his usual place, di- 
rectly under the rustic sign. 

‘‘ Scouts,” he said, ‘‘ it is written in the law that 
it is a scout’s duty to be useful and to help others, 
even though he give up his own pleasure or comfort 
or safety to do it, and that he is bound to carry out 
an order to the very best of his ability, and to let 
nothing interfere with his doing so.” 

(‘‘He means you,” whispered Gordon. 

“Nonsense!” answered Harry.) 

“ If he be a good scout, he may conceive a mere 
suggestion, a hint, to be an order, and map out his 
own path of duty as if he were acting under com- 
mand. The path may lead him among strangers. 
He may have to decide his duty, standing alone, 
without counsel, in the darkness of the night. But 
that is the law.” 

(“He does mean you,” protested Gordon. 

“ Keep still, will you.” ) 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


131 

‘‘ The hint may come to him in such a way that 
an ordinary boy — I had almost said an ordinary 
scout — could not have known his duty from it. 
We are not all equally favored by Providence.’’ 

(‘‘There, what more do you want?” whispered 
Gordon, excitedly. 

“ Nonsense,” said Harry, blushing a little.) 

“ He may limit himself to the letter of the law if 
he chooses,” continued Mr. Wade, “ but he usually 
follows its spirit. The path of his duty may wind 
its way through hardship or suffering or peril, but 
these things he will not see.” 

(“ Tha— ” 

“ Keep still, I tell you! ” whispered Harry.) 

“ If he be a scout favored by the gods and have 
the gift of prowess — ” 

(“That’s you, sure!” 

“ Oh, give us a rest ! ”) 

“ — the measure of his achievement may be large, 
and applause and admiration follow after him to 
pay him tribute.” 

(Harry managed with difficulty to control Gor- 
don.) 

“ The path may lead him to the wounded, the dy- 
ing. It may bring him face to face with the guilty 
and the desperate.” 

This time Gordon had no chance to whisper, for a 
shout went up that echoed back from the hill to meet 
another and still another, yelled out by a score of 


132 'BOY SCOUTS 

boys, who waved their arms and threw their hats in 
the air. 

Hurrah for Oakwood ! Hurray for the Bea- 
vers! Hurray for the Beavers’ leader! Hurray 
for Gordon Lord ! ” 

Mr. Wade’s upraised arm could not stem the tide, 
nor could Gordon turn it all upon his friend. His 
attempt to do so, the tendency that he had shown 
from the first, only increased their admiration and 
enthusiasm for him. It was as if a dam had burst 
and overwhelmed him — a dam which had been 
seeking vent for two days. Harry patted Gordon 
proudly on the shoulder. 

‘‘ Hurray for Oakwood ! ” went up again and 
again. “ Hurrah for Harry Arnold ! Three cheers 
for Kid Lord!” 

A rousing ‘‘ tiger ” was given, and then Mr. Wade 
motioned again for silence. 

‘‘ I have been authorized by our three patrols,” he 
said, represented by their leaders, to present to 
Harry Arnold, leader of the Beaver Patrol, ist Oak- 
wood, N. J., Troop, and to Gordon Lord, one of his 
scouts, the swastika badge of gratitude. 

“ These badges were made especially for our 
troop,” he went on, looking toward Gordon and 
Harry, ‘‘ and were planned by us as a means of of- 
fering some grateful tribute to those who, whether 
scouts or not, may chance to do us some special serv- 
ice. Intrinsically they are mere trifles,” he said, 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


133 


holding up a small swastika of narrow band silver, 
but they will serve as souvenirs to keep in memory 
deeds of which you two boys may be justly proud. 
They are given ‘ lest you forget,’ for your memories, 
it appears, are poor. One of you has already for- 
gotten his achievement of last evening in praising 
the achievement of his friend ; and his friend’s inter- 
est in mumbly-peg seems to be so great that he can 
remember little else.” 

A general laugh followed this. 

‘‘ He’s got eyes in the back of his head,” Frankie 
whispered confidentially, in Harry’s ear. He’s 
on to everything.” 

These little testimonials of our admiration and 
gratitude are given you with the wish that you will 
remain with us as long as you can. But we realize 
that you are searching for your own troop, and we 
must not detain you long. It is the earnest request 
of our three patrols, who agree in this if in nothing 
else ” (he glanced slyly at Frankie and at the 
Hyenas’ leader) “ that you, at least, remain for 
camp-fire this evening and let us have you for our 
guests one night more.” 

Harry stepped forward and received the little sil- 
ver swastika badge in his easy, offhand, but not un- 
grateful manner; then Gordon, beaming with pride 
and delight, and smiling his scout smile from ear to 
ear. It was the first honor he had received from 
the Boy Scouts, and though many honors were to 


134 


BOY SCOUTS 


come his way, there was never another one which 
gave him just the same pleasure. And though he 
was destined to learn much, there was one thing 
that he never learned, and that was why, with such 
a fellow as Harry Arnold to admire, scouts, young 
and old (to say nothing of scoutmasters), loved to 
make him smile his scout smile and persisted in help- 
ing him, in jollying him, in liking him, and in cheer- 
ing him like wild Indians whenever they got the 
chance. 


CHAPTER XI 


FRANKIE SQUARES ACCOUNTS 

“ Come, come, hurry up, Frankie ! Don’t be all 
day ! Are you all there ? Where’s the Stetson 
twins ? ” 

“ Coming,” answered Frankie, as he and three of 
his patrol reached the shore. What’s in that bot- 
tle?” 

‘‘ Soothing sirup, in case you cry,” said a boy, 
who was bailing out the dory. 

Frankie and his scouts got into the boat, and soon 
the Stetson twins (aged ten, the very youngest of 
the troop, and known as ‘‘ tender feetlets ”) came 
down. One of them, Giant George,” was hardly 
big enough to see without a magnifying glass, if 
you care to believe Atwell, but he made up in fear- 
lessness and resolution. 

There mustn’t be more than one boy in the boat 
with Giant George,” spoke up Brownell. “ Mr. 
Wade says we must run no risks. Who’s willing 
to volunteer to paddle the canoe occupied by Giant 
George? ” 

“ I’ll take that job,” said Harry Arnold. 

‘‘ Got a good muscle ? ” asked Brownell, seriously. 

I3S 


136 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ I guess I can manage it/' smiled Harry. 

“ All right ; now, let’s see. Frankie, Corporal 
Tommy, Eddie Worth, and Charles Augustus Den- 
ning in the dory — here, Atwell, it’s up to you — 
get in and keep your eye on this bunch. Now, Wil- 
liam Stetson, hop in the canoe there with Oakwood ” 
(meaning Gordon), ‘‘and I’ll make up the trio.” 
This left four members of the Hyena Patrol, who 
got into the other canoe. 

The stream flowed about a quarter of a mile from 
camp, and, passing under the three roads which had 
figured in the night’s adventures, wound through a 
beautiful, wooded valley into Lake Champlain. 
The dory, flying Frankie’s official banner ostenta- 
tiously at its stern, headed the procession, and the 
three canoes hovered about it, gliding easily upon 
the current. Now one of them would swerve near 
the majestic flagship to make some slurring com- 
ment on the Elephant Patrol, now dart forward like 
a playful child to await the squadron under low- 
hanging boughs farther down the stream. Now 
and again a lazy frog, startled by the passing pag- 
eant, dived into his muddy sanctum, and here and 
there along the way the birds complained to one an- 
other of this invasion of their domain. The scene 
was peaceful, quiet, and one might fancy the ad- 
venturous Champlain exploring these same woods in 
his own rough, Indian-paddled craft, many years 
before. Only, where the colors of France or the 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


137 


banner of the French Jesuits once grazed the over- 
hanging branches, now the flag of the Elephant Pa- 
trol waved gayly and defiantly in the breeze. And 
never had the bold Champlain such a startling enter- 
prise to carry through as the young leader of the 
Elephants. 

Harry managed his canoe as an experienced 
driver manages his horse. He never appeared to 
exert himself. He never had to undo the effect of 
one stroke with that of another. '' Giant George,” 
his sole passenger, sat in the bow and watched him 
with unbounded. admiration. The canoe containing 
the four Hyenas had been skirting the shore and its 
passengers had been reaching out and plucking 
leaves or twigs or berries. Now one of them called 
out: 

“ Here, Giant George, have a pear?” 

Giant George’s small hands went up to receive the 
luscious missile which bounded through the air. 

‘‘ Ouch ! ” he said, as he caught and dropped it. 

“ What is it? ’’ Harry asked. 

“ Burs ! ” Giant George answered. 

‘‘ Sit in the middle. Giant George, and don’t bear 
down too hard,” came from Atwell, in the dory. 

Hey, Giant George, sit in the middle ! ” shouted 
Brownell, excitedly. ‘‘ What are you trying to do, 
tip the canoe ? ” Others took up the cry, yelling at 
him to sit in the middle, till they had stirred up 
quite a panic. It was difficult to sit anywhere except 


BOY SCOUTS 


138 

in the middle, for Giant George was wedged into the 
bow where there wasn’t anything but middle, but he 
sat straight upright and was very much frightened. 
Then he began to shake the hand which stung him 
from catching the burs. 

Don’t do that ! ” came from a neighboring 
canoe. My, but you’re reckless ! Shake the other 
one too if you must shake!” Poor Giant George 
was very much frightened, until presently an assur- 
ing word came from Frankie. 

Splash some water on them,” he called. But 
Giant George would not budge. 

‘‘ Don’t you mind them,” said Harry. Suppose 
I lose you overboard and we’ll make one of those 
Laughing Hyenas go in after you.” 

I can’t swim,” said Giant George, promptly. 

No, I don’t suppose you can,” said Harry, look- 
ing the little fellow over with an amused grin. 
“ But you don’t need to sit so straight, and you can 
shake your hand all you want to — they’re only jok- 
ing you.” 

“ We’re going to get square on them,” said Giant 
George, encouraged by Harry’s show of friendship. 

My patrol leader’s got a scheme to make them 
laugh on the other side of their faces; he’s awful 
smart — Frankie is.” 

‘‘What’s the scheme?” 

“ Well, I can’t tell you yet, but you’ll see. Will 
you stand by us ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


139 

‘‘ Surest thing you know. Pm with the Ele- 
phants to the last ditch.” 

“Hey, Oakwood,” some one called to Harry; 
“don’t let him jolly you. Here you go, Giant, 
catch this ! ” But Giant George was out of the 
business of catching things. 

Presently Gordon’s canoe came alongside Harry’s, 
and naturally enough a race was in order. Gordon 
was much troubled. He did not want to be in the 
losing canoe, but he did not want to see Harry 
beaten. There was not much danger of this, how- 
ever, for Brownell had plenty to learn in wielding 
the paddle. The two canoes shot forward, Brown- 
ell taking the lead and splashing water over his 
rival. Harry soon passed him, however, making 
neither sound nor spray, and a loud cheer went up, 
to the delight of Giant George, who was very proud 
of his companion. 

Harry’s swift glide brought his canoe into a 
marshy basin filled with reeds, beyond which was 
Lake Champlain. 

“ Don’t push through there,” called Brownell ; 
“ run her up and we’ll cut across that little cape.” 

The craft were all drawn up on the shore, and 
Gordon and Harry saw that a walk of some two 
minutes across a little grassy point of land would 
bring them out upon the lake. A beaten path ran 
here, and it was evident to the two Oakwood boys 


140 


BOY SCOUTS 


that this was the customary way to reach Lake 
Champlain. 

‘‘ Now, Frankie,’' said Atwell, here’s your happy 
hunting ground ; get busy and dig us some bait while 
we’re over having a soak.” The Hyenas, one and 
all, undressed, throwing their clothing into the boats 
and putting on their trunks. Gordon and Harry 
followed suit, wearing trunks which had been lent 
them by the Ravens. 

Come, Giant George, hurry up ! ” called Atwell, 
as George stepped gingerly from his canoe. 
“ Who’s got the can, anyway ? ” The can was not 
to be found. “ Well, that’s a nice fix to get us in, 
Frankie; here, let’s have that bottle — you’ll have 
to put the bait in that.” 

‘‘ How’ll we get ’em out ? ” asked Brownell. 

Just whistle and they’ll come out.” 

“ Let’s have the bottle a minute,” said Gordon. 

“ Let him have it,” laughed Harry ; he’s got a 
way.” 

And sure enough, he had. He placed the bottle 
between his knees, wound a piece of fishing line once 
around it just blow the neck, pulled it rapidly back 
and forth for several seconds, then plunged the bot- 
tle into the water. The neck remained in the 
stream and Gordon handed to Brownell a perfect 
drinking cup, smooth and even where it had broken 
off. 

“ Good for you ! ” exclaimed Atwell. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 141 

‘‘ Isn’t he the greatest ! ” said Frankie. 

‘‘ That’s nothing,” said Gordon. 

Here, Frankie,” said Brownell, you and the 
youngsters get busy now. We’ll be back in half an 
hour and fish upstream a ways. Good-by, Giant 
George.” The group passed out of sight, and the 
Elephants gathered faithfully about their leader. 

‘‘ That big Oakwood fellow’s with us,” spoke up 
Giant George ; ‘‘ he said he’d stand by us to the last 
ditch.” This was encouraging, for with the excep- 
tion of Frankie, they were a little fearful and had a 
cowardly tendency to backslide. But the patronage 
of such a scout as Harry Arnold reassured them, 
and Frankie’s enthusiasm and resolve lent them 
courage. 

‘‘ Quick, now,” said he, ‘‘ one of them may be 
back any minute. Put your hand up inside my 
jacket, George. Feel that cardboard?” Giant 
George presently loosened from under his leader’s 
garment a large square of cardboard on which was 
printed : 

THE ELEPHANTS’ COMPLIMENTS 
TO 

THE HYENAS 

This was fastened to a tree in a conspicuous 
place, while other members of the patrol went 
through various extraordinary contortions to re- 
lease from under the rear of their jackets other 


142 


BOY SCOUTS 


squares of cardboard, bearing a variety of signifi- 
cant observations: 

CAMP TWO MILES 
TAKE FIRST PATH TO LEFT 
BEWARE OF PINE NEEDLES 

AFTER YOU, MY DEAR HYENAS 

TEN CENTS TO SEE THE 

LAUGHING HYENAS LAUGH! 

ELEPHANTS SUDDENLY CALLED 
BACK TO THE JUNGLE 

HAVE A LEMON, ATWELL? 

DONT FORGET SCOUT LAW, 
“SMILE AND LOOK PLEASANT” 

“ Take one shoe from each pair,” Frankie or- 
dered. “ They can’t wear the other one, and it 
will make something for them to carry. Same with 
socks and stockings. And leave them one garter 
each. Now pitch the rest — everything — in the 
boat.” 

In less than five minutes the tree trunks were 
decorated with signs and artistic representations of 
hyenas laughing, ironic directions for reaching 
home, and so forth. From one tree there dangled 
here and there an odd shoe, an odd sock, or a 
garter. A sign proclaimed this “ The Shoe Tree,” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


143 

and another sign invited the beholder to ‘‘Help 
Yourself.” 

In one canoe they laid, in two neat piles, Harry’s 
and Gordon’s clothing, shoes and all, and upon them 
a sign which read: 

FOR THE OAKWOOD SCOUTS 
TO COME HOME IN 
(BE SURE TO SIT IN THE MIDDLE) 

Then, after Frankie had contemplated his work 
admiringly for fully half a minute, the Elephant 
Patrol pushed off the boat, and towing the two 
canoes behind, turned their prow gleefully upstream 
and rowed away with the official banner of the Ele- 
phants flaunted gayly at their stern. 

Meanwhile, the afternoon “ soak ” had begun. 
The lake was narrow at this point and across the 
water they could see the Vermont shore rising 
gradually, and beyond the Green Mountains, one- 
time home of the adventurous Ethan Allen. The 
little Lake Champlain steamer, making a prodigious 
racket for its insignificant size, came tooting down, 
and a deckful of summer tourists waved their hand- 
kerchiefs to the boys. On the shore stood an old, 
disused railroad water tank (for the railroad hugs 
the shore here), and across the top of the butt 
which stood on lofty spindles the boys had fastened 
a springy board for diving. 

Scarcely had they reached the shore when every 


144 


BOY SCOUTS 


one of them was splashing in the water. Gordon 
found it much warmer than at the sea beach where 
he was used to bathing. But he was a novice at 
swimming and, despite the pleasure he took in bath- 
ing, had been slow to pick up the art. He explained 
this by saying that he ‘‘ tried to think of things 
while in the water and could not give his undivided 
attention to it. 

‘‘ What’s the matter, Oakwood ? ” Brownell asked, 
as Gordon came out, wiping the water from his 
eyes. 

'' My, but they smart ! ” answered Gordon. 

‘‘ That’s because you keep them open when you 
go under — trying to pick up trails, I suppose.” 

‘‘Tails?” gasped Gordon, wringing out his hair. 

“No — trails/' said Brownell ; “ didn’t you know 
you can follow a fish’s trail ? ” 

Gordon grinned. 

“ Sure,” said Atwell, always to the fore when 
there was any jollying afoot; “ that is, some fishes’; 
they say it’s almost impossible to follow a shark’s 
trail.” 

“ Stow that, Atwell,” said the Hyenas’ corporal. 
Then, turning to Gordon, “ Better shut your eyes 
when you go under; guess you’re used to surf bath- 
ing, hey? Well, that’s the reason. The eyes are 
used to salt water — it doesn’t hurt them. Don’t 
you know the secretions of the eye are salty? Tears 
never hurt you, did they ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


145 


This was plausible enough, but seeing that it 
was a Hyena who spoke, Gordon was on his guard. 

‘‘ He never sheds tears,” called Harry, who was 
sitting astride the diving board. ‘‘ Come on up and 
have a dive.” 

Soon they were launching themselves, one after 
another, from the height of twenty feet into the 
lake. Brownell had the stiff dive to perfection, his 
straight body turning so as to bring his head down 
into the water like an arrow. Atwell did the 
drop ” to the admiration of all, falling limp and 
lifeless, till he almost reached the water, then 
straightening out like magic. The clown element 
was furnished by Gordon, who came up each time 
choking and sputtering, but with a grin always on 
his face. None of his calculations for reaching the 
water panned out, but he managed to get there each 
time in some fashion. 

‘‘ What do you call that one ? ” one of the boys 
asked him. 

That’s the celebrated roly-poly tumble, I guess,” 
volunteered Brownell. ‘‘ Here’s a good one.” He 
sprang sideways, maintaining the position till he al- 
most reached the water, then swerved about. 

“ Good,” said Harry. ‘‘ Ever do this one ? ” 

He stood a moment on the end of the board, 
sprang high, turned a complete backward somersault, 
and sank into the water feet first and hands high in 
air. 


146 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ That was simply great ! ’’ Atwell shouted. 

“Try this one,” said Harry, as he clambered off 
the ladder on to the plank. Placing his feet on the 
very end of the board, he allowed himself to fall to 
a horizontal position, rolled in the air like a hoop 
slightly opened at one side, and pierced the water 
turning like a wheel. 

“ Fine ! Magnificent ! ” said Brownell, as Harry 
clambered up again to take his place beside the oth- 
ers who were sitting along the board with their feet 
dangling into the butt. 

“ That fellow over there,” said one of the Hyenas, 
“ makes more noise than a ferry-boat.” He pointed 
to a canoe out in the lake which was occupied by a 
young man and a small boy. The boy was waving 
his handkerchief ecstatically in applause of Harry’s 
feat, and his companion was splashing the water 
with his paddle, apparently for the same purpose. 
As they watched, they saw the young man ship the 
paddle, rise, step toward the middle of the canoe, lift 
what appeared to be a red sweater and wave it. 
Suddenly he staggered, and the next thing the boys 
saw was an overturned canoe, a lot of parapher- 
nalia, and two figures sprawling desperately in the 
water. 

Harry had risen and without a single word 
walked across the knees of the other boys and dis- 
appeared, before the canoeists were really in the 
lake and before the other boys had moved. He did 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


147 


not stop to dive or even to jump, he simply walked 
off the end of the board. Then Brownell, who was 
at the outer end of the board, dived, but by that 
time Harry had almost reached the small boy, who 
was uttering pitiable cries. The young man had 
managed to get from deep water and stood chest 
deep near the farther shore, wringing his hands and 
screaming like a girl. 

As Harry neared the boy the floundering figure 
disappeared and he waited. Presently it rose logily, 
heavily, the head back. That’s right,” said Harry, 
‘‘ keep your head back and don’t move.” The only 
response was a scream and a panic-stricken clutch 
for Harry’s wrist. He loosened the small hand eas- 
ily by turning his thumb against its wrist, but the 
boy’s two hands went convulsively to his neck, cling- 
ing desperately. He put his arm around the little 
fellow’s waist and his other hand, palm upward, 
under the chin, the tips of his fingers reaching the 
boy’s nose. Then he pulled and pushed jerkily. In 
a moment the little hands let go their hold. Like 
lightning, the boy was turned, almost brutally, as it 
seemed, and Harry was behind him again, his arms 
under the little fellow’s armpits, grasping each hand 
as it tried convulsively to clutch him, and making for 
the shore. 

‘‘ Is he all right ? ” called Brownell, who, with one 
or two others, was almost across. 

Is he dead ? Oh, is he dead ? ” gasped the 


148 


BOY SCOUTS 


young fellow who had been his companion. Harry 
paid no attention to the question, nor to the excited 
youth, but helped the boy to get rid of the water he 
had swallowed and tried to calm him. 

‘‘You’re all right,” said he; “and see how nice 
and clean your hands and face are. Where do you 
live?” 

“ He lives right up the hill in that handsome man- 
sion,” volunteered the boy’s friend, who lisped and 
panted out his words excitedly with chattering 
teeth. He wore a gorgeous silk outing shirt, a neck- 
erchief with ends tied loosely and hanging in a way 
of studied nonchalance, and a silly little trinket in 
the way of a compass hung on a lanyard about his 
neck. He was the true amateur camper, put to- 
gether in a sporting-goods store, and now presented 
a ridiculous appearance as he stood shivering and 
dripping. Even his jack-knife, which might easily 
have been carried in his pocket, was suspended on a 
little silver hook from his belt. 

“ His people are extremely well-to-do,” he ex- 
plained in his rapid, lisping voice. “ I am a guest 
there myself ; I have not the slightest doubt they will 
reward you suitably for your bravery.” 

Harry surveyed him curiously, but did not an- 
swer. “ What’s your name, sport ? ” he asked the 
boy, who was gradually getting possession of his 
senses. 

“ His name is Danforth — Penfield Danforth,” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


149 


spoke up the summer sportsman ; ‘‘ he’s a delicate 
boy, father thinks the world of him, youngest child 
and all that sort of thing. Poor little codger, he 
seems to be quite upset. I — ” 

Oh, let up,” Harry broke out. 

‘‘ Pardon me?” 

He was upset, all right,” laughed Atwell. 

‘‘Yes, indeed, in more ways than one,” said the 
young man, smiling. 

“Well, I guess you’d better take him home,” 
said Harry. “ There’s your canoe down there un- 
der that tree; you can get it later. Take him up 
and get him something hot to drink.” 

“ I was very much impressed with your diving,” 
said the young man, “ especially that last one — ” 

“ I guess you can get him up the hill, all right ? ” 
said Harry. 

“Indeed, yes, but I must ask your name. Mr. 
Dan forth will, no doubt, wish to communicate with 
you.” He pulled out a little blank book with a red 
morocco cover, somewhat draggled from his plunge, 
and a pencil pocket along its edge. On the cover 
was printed in gold letters. My Summer in the 
Woods, 

Harry eyed it amusedly. 

“ Your name, please? ” 

“ Buffalo Bill,” said Harry. 

“ I’m afraid you’re joking. May I ask yours? ” 

“ Daniel Boone,” said Atwell. 


BOY SCOUTS 


150 

He dropped the book on its cord. ‘‘Well, we 
shall be able to find you anyway ; you can’t hide your 
light under a bushel.” 

Harry helped the boy to his feet, and watched the 
pair make their way up toward a large house with 
spacious lawns that crowned a hill a little way back 
from the shore. Then the boys swam across the 
lake and made for the little grove where they had 
left the Elephants. 

“ What the dickens is this ? ” said one. He was 
standing in front of a sign which read : 

CAN’T GET AWAY TO DIG BAIT FOR 
YOU TO-DAY, MY PATROL WON’T LET ME. 

“And look at this one, will you?” said the 
amazed Atwell. 

“ Here’s another,” called Brownell. 

They walked about reading the various signs 
which Frankie had lost a night’s sleep to manufac- 
ture. 

“ Well, what do you think of that ? ” said 
Brownell, as they stood surveying the “ shoe tree.” 
“ The little imps ! I wonder how many pairs they’ve 
left? ” 

“Haven’t left any, of course; they’re all odd 
shoes.” 

Meanwhile, Gordon and Harry had discovered 
the canoe and begun quietly to put on their clothes. 






1 1 


"M NEVER IN MY LIFE!' SHE EXCLAIMED 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


151 

The others gathered about and looked on enviously. 
“ You fellows must have a pull with Frankie,” said 
one. Going to give us a ride home ? ” 

‘‘ Two of you can come,” answered Harry, ‘‘ two 
light-weights. I don’t think it would be quite safe 
with Brownell or Atwell.” He was not going to 
lessen Frankie’s triumph any more than necessary 
and he knew that these two were the chief targets of 
Frankie’s vengeance. Two of the Hyenas lost no 
time in getting in, and while the others were wan- 
dering here and there, ruefully surveying the Ele- 
phants’ handiwork, Gordon and Harry pushed off. 

Hey, Oakwood, take these shoes and things, 
will you ? ” came from the shore. But Harry was 
almost in midstream and making a great splash with 
his paddle, and was discreetly unable to hear. 

Two hours later, Frankie sat on a camp chair be- 
fore the Elephants’ tent, playing dominoes with 
Giant George. His faithful corporal stood at his 
elbow. 

‘‘ Here they come,” said Giant George, in an un- 
dertone. Frankie glanced covertly up at a sight 
which gladdened his heart. The Hyenas, in their 
bathing trunks, each one carrying a single shoe, were 
straggling to their stronghold. The perspiration 
dripped from them, for the heat was intense and 
their long walk home had been under a broiling sun. 
The Elephants had thoughtfully relieved them even 
of their hats and caps. 


152 


BOY SCOUTS 


Mr. Wade and A1 Wilson stood in the path, talk- 
ing. The scoutmaster had a twinkle in his eye as 
the procession passed, and even the sober A1 could 
not repress a smile. 

“ What are you going to do about it ? ” he asked. 

Nothing,’’ said Mr. Wade, chuckling. I don’t 
want to be drawn into these political broils.” 


CHAPTER XII 


SHADES OF THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS 

During the boys’ absence, a doctor from Ticon- 
deroga had visited Walter Lee, and pronounced his 
injuries comparatively slight, predicting a quick re- 
covery. A sheriff had come out with him, secured 
the best description he could of the robber, and, sat- 
isfied who the fellow was, had gone in search of 
him. But the bird had flown, as he informed Mr. 
Wade on his way back. Harry was not altogether 
sorry to hear this, for he had not been able to get 
the wretched young man’s mother out of his 
thoughts. 

That night as they sat around the camp-fire the 
conversation turned upon the history of the old 
Fort Ticonderoga and its capture by the patriot, 
Ethan Allen, in the early days of the War of Inde- 
pendence. 

“He was a queer old fellow,” said Mr. Wade, 
who was always “great” at camp-fire, “but I’ve 
never been able to make out how he did that trick. 
There he was, a backwoods farmer, up in Benning- 
ton, Vermont, which was then a wilderness, with a 
pack of lumbering backwoodsmen following him 
IS3 


154 


BOY SCOUTS 


about. Why, half of them didn’t have firearms, 
and half the guns they had didn’t work. I under- 
stand they used to use their swords to hoe potatoes. 
A uniform would have been a curiosity. They were 
simply a parcel of big, burly, ignorant farmers, 
strong just as an ox is strong, and almost as stupid. 
Allen had some wit, though. Well, finally the 
news works up that way that the colonists are going 
to war. Up jumps old Allen, and says he, ‘ Come 
on, let’s go over there and take those two forts. 
Crown Point and Ticonderoga.’ 

“ They were loafing around the village store, talk- 
ing about liberty and tyranny and all that sort of 
thing. ‘ It’s a go,’ said Seth Warner, who was as 
reckless as Allen himself. ‘ I’m with you,’ piped up 
the sheriff. ‘ Me too,’ called another, and they got 
ready, chose Allen leader, and came right down 
through to Shoreham, opposite Ticonderoga. — Put 
another log on the fire, and rake her up a bit, will 
you, Cattell? 

‘‘Well, sir, there was one man who happened 
along, and he had some military training, but they 
had no use for him — said he was nothing but a sol- 
dier, and that was young Benedict Arnold, who 
turned traitor before the end of the war. But they 
let him go along. Now, history tells us that this 
pack of rough farmers, I don’t know just how many, 
brought up on the shore right opposite Ticonderoga 
and Allen made them a great speech. Then they 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


155 

appropriated a few dories that happened to be 
moored about, for transports. 

‘‘ That was long after midnight. They kept 
crossing and recrossing till daylight, bringing the 
men over. You know, the fort, garrisoned by Eng- 
lish regulars, was scarcely two hundred feet from 
the shore. And this thing was going on right under 
Captain Delaplace’s nose till daylight. Then the 
whole crowd started up the hill, overpowered the 
sentry, marched in, and Allen called upstairs for 
Delaplace to come down. 

“ * What for ? ’ says Delaplace. * For me,’ says 
Allen; ‘I want the surrender of this fort.’ ‘In 
whose name ? ’ called down the Captain, his nightcap 
bobbing over the stairs. ‘ In the name of the great 
Jehovah and the Continental Congress,’ shouted Al- 
len. And according to all accounts, the Captain im- 
mediately surrendered the fort. Then, as if that 
wasn’t enough, Seth Warner finished the job by tak- 
ing Crown Point Fort in the same way. And the 
Americans held them till General Burgoyne came 
down through this country and retook them. 

“ Now, all things together, I say the whole thing 
was impossible ! ” 

“ It was done,” said A1 Wilson, quietly. 

“ I know, Al,” said Mr. Wade, “ but it was im- 
possible just the same — couldn’t be done.” 

There was a great laugh, and Fred Brownell said : 
“ You’re like the old farmer that went to the men- 


BOY SCOUTS 


156 

agerie and saw a camel for the first time. He’d 
seen dromedaries with one hump before, but when 
he came to the real camel with two humps he stood 
and looked at it for a few minutes in amazement 
with his mouth wide open. Then he let out, ‘ Gosh, 
ther ain’t no such animal ! ’ ” 

‘‘Those farmers were full of patriotism,” ven- 
tured a boy, when the laughter had subsided. 

“ Yes, and patriotism will carry one a long way,” 
said the scoutmaster; “but I could never under- 
stand that capture — that and Paul Jones’s victory. 
We’ll look over the ground when we go down there; 
the doctor told me this morning that he’d see if he 
couldn’t get us permission to camp a week or so 
right in the old fort. They say an old underground 
passage to the lake is still there.” 

Harry had listened carelessly to all this, but now 
an idea came to him. 

“You mean to camp in the old fort, sir?” he 
asked. 

“That’s the idea, if we can get permission. 
We’ll pick up here about the middle of August and 
spend our last two weeks on historic ground. You 
know, they’ve been restoring the old fortress after a 
fashion. A patriotic woman became interested in 
it, and they’ve made quite a fort of it. You two 
boys ought to see it. You know, old Ticonderoga 
has a great history. It played a part in the bloody 
French and Indian War, passed from the French to 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


157 


the English, then to the Americans when Ethan 
Allen took it, then back to the English when Bur- 
goyne took it, then finally back to the Americans 
again. And now the Boy Scouts propose to oc- 
cupy it! 

We’ll explore the old Trout Brook where 
young Lord Howe was killed by the Indians. I be- 
lieve I can pick out the very spot.” 

“ Then you do admit Ethan Allen took it ? ” 
smiled Harry. 

Well, in a way,” laughed the scoutmaster, ac- 
cording to history, yes; according to reason and 
common sense, no.” Then, more seriously, he 
added, There are some things in history, freakish 
things, which are theoretically impossible, but which 
are done. Paul Jones’s great battle is one. The 
storming of Stony Point by Mad Anthony Wayne 
is another.” 

Washington put him up to that,” protested A1 
Wilson. 

‘‘No, he didn’t, Al; Washington told him to go 
ahead if he wanted to, and Wayne, who was as crazy 
as a March hare, went ahead.” 

“ And succeeded,” finished Al. 

“ Yes, but logically he oughtn’t to have suc- 
ceeded,” laughed Mr. Wade, “and Ethan Allen 
ought not to have succeeded. There was something 
wrong somewhere. If I were a military man and 
had a force of regular soldiers under me in that old 


158 


BOY SCOUTS 


fort, do you suppose a pack of undrilled backwoods- 
men could land under my very nose, fire off a patri- 
otic speech, and take the fort without the loss of a 
single life or the shedding of a drop of blood? No 
sirree ! ” 

They all laughed at his good-natured vehemence, 
and he laughed himself, for at such times he was no 
more than a boy among them. 

“ Oh, but it was great, though ! ’’ cried Gordon. 
Harry said nothing; he was idly whittling a stick, 
and thinking. He hoped Gordon would not have 
the same thought, and blurt it out. He was think- 
ing that if this thing could be done once without the 
shedding of a drop of blood, it could be done again. 

“ The last two weeks in August,” he said to him- 
self. ‘‘ I wonder what Red Deer will think of it.” 

It was natural enough after this that the camp-fire 
yarns ” should turn on the history of the famous 
lake, of the old forts at Ticonderoga and Crown 
Point, and the story of the reckless, adventurous 
Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys. Thus 
the evening passed, the cheerful fire crackling and 
lighting up the solemn woods and shining upon the 
faces of the merry company. They sat later than 
usual, in honor of the two guests who were to bid 
them farewell in the morning. 

Gordon and Harry had the tepee to themselves, 
and the next day, early, they took tljeir leave of the 
hospitable camp. But first they went in to see Wal- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


159 


ter Lee, who was to sit up that day. They had 
seen but little of Collins, the ‘‘ First Aid ” boy, and 
now the three sat about the injured scout’s couch and 
talked. Harry liked Collins immensely. When 
they rose to go and had shaken hands with Walter, 
Harry lingered a moment. I want to ask you a 
question,” Le said. ‘‘You remember when you 
passed us in the train, you made me the full salute ? 
How did you know I was patrol leader ? ” 

Walter’s hand went up to a slightly frayed button- 
hole in Harry’s flannel shirt. “ I guess that’s where 
you fasten the lanyard of your patrol whistle, isn’t 
it? ” 

Harry smiled. “ You’ll do,” said he. 

Gordon paused to lean down and speak confiden- 
tially to the invalid. “ We can’t make him wear a 
belt,” he said, “ and he won’t wear a khaki coat, 
either. He’s very funny about some things; well, 
good-by.” 

Mr. Wade gave them a letter to be delivered to 
Dr. Brent, alias Red Deer, and bade them a hearty 
good-by, with many hints to be used in their search 
for the needle in the haystack. The three patrols 
stood together and gave them a great send-off. But 
not the full troop, either, for seated by the roadside 
over the hill, they came upon Frankie and his faith- 
ful follower. Giant George. 

“ What did you think of that scheme yesterday? ” 
said Frankie. 


i6o 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ It was great/' answered Harry. 

I thought up all those signs/' Frankie continued. 

‘‘ They were very clever, too," Harry said. 

** I thought up that about the odd shoes, too." 

‘‘That was the best part; well, good-by, Frank." 

They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when the 
piping voice of Giant George was heard in rebel- 
lious altercation with his leader, and presently a 
frantic shout from him brought them to a halt. 

“ I thought up that about the odd garters ! " he 
shouted. 

“ Good for you, George ! " 


CHAPTER XIII 


AN EXTRAORDINARY INVENTION 
(Patent not applied for) 

They cut up through the woods where Gordon 
had picked his way to the Albany camp, for he 
wanted to show Harry the chasm and the path he 
had taken. 

“ Now, Kid,” said Harry, you will be kind 
enough to keep your beautiful brown eyes straight 
ahead, or by the great eternal sphinx. I’ll put a pair 
of blinders on you. No more pink arrows! Just 
look ahead and listen to me. WeVe got three 
things to do, and one of them is right in your line. 
First, we’ve got to strike Crown Point and find the 
elderly lady who lost this bag.” 

How do you know she’s elderly, Harry ? ” 

On account of the smelling salts. Then we’ve 
got to find the troop, and if all goes well I’m going 
to give Mr. E. C. Wade the surprise of his life. 
How would you like to be Ethan Allen ? ” 

What ! ” said Gordon, the idea suddenly dawn- 
ing on him. 

‘‘ Well, now,” Harry continued, Ethan Allen 
i6x 


i 62 iBOY SCOUTS 

was like you ; he was the kind of a fellow who could 
find a way.’’ 

“ That’s like you, Harry.” 

. Well, but he liked to talk and make fine 
speeches, too, so I think it’s up to you. Anyway, 
I’m going to put the idea up to Red Deer, if we can 
root him out, and see if we can’t plan an assault. 
We’ll reconnoiter the locality, send a couple of 
scouts in, then go over into Vermont, transport our 
men in dories right under Mr. Wade’s nose, gag 
his sentries (he’ll have some out, you can wager), 
and enter the fort, call upstairs and give him Allen’s 
speech about Jehovah and the Continental Congress. 
Exactly how we’ll take the fort is a thing I’ll have 
to think out and talk over with Red Deer. But so 
far, how does it strike you? ” 

Gordon was radiant. ‘‘ It’s great, Harry ! It’s 
simply fine ! And I read in a book — the school his- 
tory — that after it was all over Ethan Allen and 
Seth Warner made a trip to Philadelphia and re- 
ceived the thanks of Congress; and we’ll do that too, 
Harry, we — ” 

I don’t just see how we could do that,” said 
Harry. 

‘‘ Yes, we could, Harry ; there’s a way. My uncle 
belongs to a club where there’s a man who knows a 
senator, and he — ” 

“ Now just come down to earth,” said Harry. 
'' Do you suppose Allen was figuring on the thanks 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 163 

of Congress before he did anything? You’re a nice 
kind of patriot ! ” 

They had reached the chasm and explored it to- 
gether. Harry found a strip of wood which had 
evidently held the three logs together when they 
spanned the gully, and found that it contained sev- 
eral nails exactly like the telltale one whose impres- 
sions he had followed. He even found another 
one lying in the mud. 

It’s seldom a man commits a crime,” he said, 
‘‘without either taking or leaving something that 
he doesn’t mean to. Sometimes it isn’t large 
enough to convict him. Sometimes it’s so small 
that it escapes notice. But a hundred to one, he 
takes or leaves something. Come on, let’s get away 
from here. You did great work. Kid.” 

That was the last that Harry ever said, volun- 
tarily, about the sordid crime. He seemed dis- 
gusted at all mention of it and anxious to forget it. 

Emerging on the road where Gordon had seen 
the pink arrow, they started north for their belated 
ascent of Dibble Mountain. Their purpose was to 
get an outlook from its summit and go down its 
northern slope into the little village of Crown 
Point. They had almost reached the point where 
the stream ran under the road in its journey to the 
lake, when they heard voices ahead, and presently 
came in sight of a country boy leaning over the 
railing of the bridge and talking to some one below. 


164 


BOY SCOUTS 


Never heerd o' no sech feller outside a book. 
I seen a book onct with a guy by the name o' Dan'l 
Boone onto it, but I never heerd tell o' no sech a 
feller in these parts; there's a Dan'l Berry over to 
Hammondville. How's that ? " 

A voice answered from below, but Harry and 
Gordon could not hear what it said. 

‘‘ Oh, why didn't ye say so ? " the country boy 
called down. “ Kind o' play-actin' folks, was 
they?" 

By this time the boys had reached the bridge. 
Underneath, rocking gently in the water, was the 
handsomest motor boat that Harry Arnold had ever 
seen. Its brass trimmings shone dazzling in the 
morning sunlight. Cushions of scarlet plush cov- 
ered its seats, their vivid color thrown into relief 
by the color of the boat itself, which was as white 
as snow. Also as white as snow was the mustache 
of the gentleman who occupied it, and the eyes which 
met those of Gordon and Harry as they looked 
down were genial with just the suggestion of a 
humorous twinkle. He wore a linen suit, very 
much wrinkled, and very much wrinkled, also, was 
the kindly face, and rather scanty were the gray 
locks that showed under the little blue yatching cap 
which he wore. A young man in chauffeur's attire 
sat near the engine with his hand on the steering- 
gear. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 165 

‘‘ Good morning,” said the gentleman. ‘‘ How 
far can I get with this thing? ” 

Not much farther, I’m afraid,” answered 
Harry. ‘‘ How much does she draw ? ” 

‘‘ Now, you’ve got me^” said the gentleman, 
laughing. ‘‘How much does she draw, Pat?” 

Pat shook his head. 

“ She draws about twenty dollars a week in the 
summer,” said the gentleman, “and if she were 
mine. I’d discharge her.” 

“ What seems to be the trouble ? ” laughed Harry. 

“ The trouble,” responded the gentleman, mer- 
rily, “ is between herself and my son — it’s not my 
quarrel. She is occasionally taken with carburitis, 
which is a complaint of the carbureter. To-day 
she’s doing very nicely, thank you. Do either of 
you boys know where the Boy Scouts have their 
camp — how far up this stream? I’m trying to 
get to them.” 

“ We just came from there,” Harry answered. 
“ They’re about two miles up, but I’m afraid you’ll 
have to foot it. It’s pretty shallow and rocky from 
here on.” 

The gentleman put on his glasses. “Oh, yes,” 
said he, “I might have noticed. Is that a blue 
shirt you’ve got on? The sun is right in my eyes 
— you tall fellow, I mean ? ” 

“ It’s supposed to be blue,” laughed Harry. 


BOY SCOUTS 


1 66 


He’s got a khaki one,” added Gordon, ‘‘ but he 
never wears it.” 

'‘You belong up there, I suppose?” 

" No, sir, we’ve been making them a visit. 
We’re a couple of tramps just now.” 

" Is that a leather wristlet you’ve got ? ” 

"Yes, sir.” 

"Well, just come — no, wait a minute — I’ll 
come up there.” 

"Stay where you are, sir,” answered Harry. 
" We’ll come down.” 

He led the way down as if he expected to be 
charged with a crime. He suspected what was 
coming.” 

" Come in here, my boy — you too. My name 
is Robert E. Danforth. I have a place across the 
lake. You saved my boy’s life yesterday — don’t 
attempt to deny it ! You’re the very boy I’m look- 
ing for. Did you give your name as Buffalo Bill? 
You did — don’t deny it! Who are you, anyway? 
Why didn’t you come up to the house so that we 
could thank you? Do you realize what you did? ” 

Harry had hoped that he might hear nothing 
more of the incident, but there was nothing now for 
him to do but face the music. 

Mr. Robert E. Danforth, according to gossip, had 
begun life with nine cents, and he now had nine 
million dollars. It was not likely that such a man 
would permit the modesty of a boy scout to stand 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


167 


in the way of his purpose. And his purpose now 
was to make suitable acknowledgment to the boy 
who had saved his little son’s life. In the winter 
Mr. Danforth worked very hard ; in the sum- 
mer he played very hard, and this was his play 
season. 

He would hear of nothing but that the two boys 
should go back with him to Overlook, his magnifi- 
cent estate on the Vermont shore. So the boat’s 
prow was turned downstream and the little craft 
went chugging out through the reedy basin and 
across the lake toward a beautiful boat-house sur- 
mounted by an octagonal cupola, in one of the open 
arches of which they could see a small figure. 
They were halfway across when suddenly a white 
object shot from the cupola and dropped into the 
water a few feet from the boat. 

“ Get it, Pat,” said Mr. Danforth, and the boat 
was steered over to the floating object, which Harry 
reached for and secured. It was a little aeroplane, 
crude enough in construction, having a plane about 
twenty inches long, on which dried glue, somewhat 
sticky now from the plunge, appeared in untidy 
masses. But as Harry lifted it, the propeller, 
which was nothing but one of those celluloid fans 
which shoot into the air when twisted from between 
the hands, began to revolve with a steady, even 
motion, continuing for fully half a minute. Mr. 
Danforth smiled as Harry examined it. 


BOY SCOUTS 


i68 

“ He thinks he’s going to revolutionize juvenile 
aeronautics,” said the father. 

‘‘Well, I don’t know but what he will!” said 
Harry. “What is this, an)rway?” 

“ It’s the alarm apparatus from a clock.” 

The mechanism was bound with thread under 
the center of the plane. The brass frame which 
encased a set of clockwork had been filed into and 
broken off, so that nothing was left but a little cor- 
ner of frame holding a small clock spring, one lit- 
tle cogwheel, and the catch and release teeth which 
create and govern the vibration of the upright 
striking bar. The little metal knob, or striker, on 
the top of the bar had been twisted off and, since 
its weight modified the striking action, its removal 
created an excess of power which was here taken 
up by the propeller. This latter was rather clum- 
sily connected with the mechanism by a light, flat- 
linked brass chain which ran around the cogwheel. 
The trouble with the whole affair was its weight, 
which, though small, might easMy have been re- 
duced still further. 

They had now reached the boat-house, where 
the man jumped out and hauled the craft in between 
two others, one a beautiful steam yacht. The 
other, about the size of an ordinary rowboat, was 
covered with canvas. The little boy whom Harry 
had rescued met them on the stairs, his eyes glisten- 
ing with tears. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 169 

‘‘It’s the twenty-third time it wouldn’t go,” he 
said. 

“ Never mind, my boy,” said his father, putting 
his arm affectionately over the little fellow’s shoul- 
der. “ Maybe it will go next time.” 

“ Twenty-three’s a hoodoo number, anyway,” 
aded Harry. “Why do you send it over the wa- 
ter? ” 

“Because if it flies across the lake. I’ll win the 
cup. But it won’t — it never does.” 

“ Well, Pat will row out and get it for you every 
single time,” said his father, soothingly. 

“ It’ll get spoiled — it’s spoiled now — the ones 
you buy go.” He almost broke out crying, and 
Mr. Danforth looked as if the little fellow’s dis- 
appointment actually hurt hinx 

“ I was all this week and two days of last week 
making it — and it’s spoiled.” He set his lips tight 
in a manly effort to control his distress. 

Harry stepped forward, placing his arm over the 
boy’s shoulder as his father had done. “You 
remember me?” he said in his quiet way. “Well, 
now, you listen a minute. Never mind if your 
machine is spoiled, you’ve still got the idea and it’s 
a mighty good one, too. You can work it up 
again and make it still better.” He smiled en- 
couragingly and patted the little fellow’s shoulder. 
The father was delighted. 

“ Hear that, Pen ? This is the boy who got 


170 


BOY SCOUTS 


you out of the water yesterday — come to see how 
you are — maybe he can give you some ideas. 
Take him up to the aviation tower and show him 
things — show him the cup.” He winked at Harry. 

I want you boys to stay here till to-morrow,” he 
called after them as Penfield led the way upstairs, 
“as a favor to me.” 

“ I’m afraid we’ll never find our friends unless 
we get about it,” Harry protested. 

“ Well, one day won’t make any difference. I 
want a chance to talk to you. Come up to the house 
when you’ve seen his den.” 

Penfield led them into a little octagonal room, 
littered thick with shavings, pieces of silk, tangled 
masses of reed, and a fishing rod which had been 
laid under contribution for strips of bamboo. Mag- 
azine cuts of the various types of air craft, the Cur- 
tis, the Voisin, the Cody, and the Wright, were 
tacked on the wall. 

“ That’s the Voisin,” said Penfield, excitedly, as 
Harry stood before the picture. “ It looks like the 
Wright, but it isn’t, it’s got more longitudinal sta- 
bility on account of the enclosed ends and partitions. 
But it can’t coast like the Wright. I like mono- 
planes best, don’t you? That’s the Bleriot. You 
can flex the tips of the planes, that’s one thing about 
it I like. Pat likes the Antoinette model, but I 
don’t. The Curtis is my favorite, — only, of 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


171 


course, thaPs a biplane. You can't make a toy 
biplane fly, it needs too much control. But the 
Curtis is my favorite. It’s the lightest of all, but 
that isn't why I like it. And it has the best finish, 
but that isn’t why I like it, either. It’s the control ; 
you lift and decline the fore planes by shifting the 
steering wheel. And the balance is controlled by 
moving your body sideways. Isn’t that a dandy 
idea? But I like the Wright brothers — my, I’d 
like to see them ! ” 

** Well, they began just like you,” said Harry. 

There was one thing he noticed in particular as 
he picked up the broken and unfinished models that 
lay about. The most common, everyday objects 
had been used for some practical purpose. A cir- 
cular typewriter eraser acted as wheel to a cog 
chain. Metal paper clips were used to hold joints. 
The circular, hollow bar of a gas jet held together 
and served as ferrule and fore-weight to the three 
dowell sticks forming a motor-base. The boy 
seemed to have his own way of doing everything, 
and everything he had done was ingenious. 

On a rough bracket, six feet or so above the floor, 
stood a battered pewter stein. 

That the cup ? ” Harry asked. 

Yes, that’s it, but I can’t touch it — not till I’ve 
won it.” 

“ Who offered it ? ” Gordon asked. 


172 


[BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘I did, but I make believe it was a club. I’m 
trying to win it — it’s a trophy. I can’t even touch 
it till my monoplane flies across the lake.” 

Gordon would have laughed, but he encountered 
Harry’s look, and refrained. 

‘‘ Well, now, let’s see,” Harry said, sitting down 
and taking the little model on his knees. I think 
we’re just the fellows for you. You’ve heard of 
the Boy Scouts, I suppose. Well, we belong to the 
Scouts of Oakwood, New Jersey, and there’s an 
aero club in our troop — ” 

‘‘ Oh, my father’s building a house there,” cried 
the boy. 

Where — Oakwood ? ” 

Yes, we’re going to live there this Fall when it’s 
finished. We’re not going to live in the city any 
more.” 

“ Do you suppose he means the big house they’re 
putting up on the hill ? ” Harry asked of Gordpn. 

‘‘ Yes, it’s on the hill,” Penfield spoke up, and 
I’m going to sleep outdoors.” 

Well, that’s news,” said Harry. I wondered 
who was putting up that house.” 

‘‘ Yes, and may I join your aero club — if I make 
one that goes?” 

^‘You certainly may!” said Harry. “You can 
join the troop, and then if you are interested in 
aeroplanes you can join the little club six of the 
boys have formed. There’s going to be a big 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


173 


meet in Oakwood this Fall; any boy that lives in 
the county can enter his ’plane — provided he made 
it. I believe the Oakwood News is offering a cup, 
too, isn’t it, Gordon? I don’t know very much 
about aeros myself.” 

“ He does too,” said Gordon. 

Penfield was delighted. Excitedly he explained 
his crude little model to Harry. And Harry saw 
that the novel motive power which he had used held 
vast possibilities. He wound up the spring and 
found that the power sustained the propeller in 
rapid motion for thirty-four seconds. 

‘‘ Twelve seconds is the best ever done with elas- 
tic band torsion,” said Penfield. It was evident 
that he had been studying the subject. 

‘‘Well, then,” said Harry, in a brown study. 
“ I don’t see why we should lose those twelve sec- 
onds. Let’s see, twelve and thirty-four make for- 
ty-six. Forty-six seconds in the air will beat any 
model air-ship ever made. Say that you lose six 
seconds for the transfer of power — there you 
have forty left.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked both boys. 

“ Why, see here. The way they run these things 
usually — those you buy as well as the home-made 
ones — is by a long, thin strand of elastic from the 
axis of the propeller to a stationary hook. Wind 
the propeller and it winds the elastic — there’s your 
power. Now, see this little jigger here?” He 


174 


BOY SCOUTS 


put his finger on the upright wire bar on which the 
striker of the alarm had been mounted. “ This 
vibrates rapidly while the spring is unwinding. 
Now, suppose you bend the top of it into a hook, 
wind up your elastic, then wind up your spring. 
This striker bar will hold the wound spring station- 
ary until the power of the elastic is exhausted. As 
soon as the elastic is run down, the spring goes to 
work. There are half a dozen ways to connect the 
spring movement with the propeller — the catch 
chain is one. You’ll have to work it out. I give 
you the tip — the name is also thrown in — it’s the 
celebrated Strikastic Multiple Motor, producing a 
sustained flight of about forty seconds. ‘ Strike ’ 
stands for striker ; ‘ astic ’ for elastic.” 

Or you might call it the Clockubber Transfer 
Motive System — that brings in clock and rubber,” 
said Gordon. ‘‘ Or better still, the Penalarm Tor- 
subber Champastic Double Motor — there you’ve 
got everything in — Penfield, Alarm, Torsion, Rub- 
ber, Champlain, Elastic and — and — wait a min- 
ute-—” 

“ No aeroplane could carry such a name as that,” 
said Harry, “ it would keel right over. Now, old 
boy,” he said to Penfield, “ if I were you. I’d take 
time and make this right, and I believe you’ll have a 
winner. Make your plane bigger — thirty inches 
anyway, and flex it. You take a wooden pie plate 
and see how much higher it goes than a flat disk. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


1 75 

Flex it this way ” (he showed with pencil and pa- 
per) ; ‘‘ then if I were you Fd have the sticks of 
your motor-base, or backbone, as you might call it, 
just wide enough apart to wedge this clockwork 
business between ; it’ll stand rigid and you’ll get rid 
of a lot of friction. You might take away the 
brass frame altogether and line the wooden casing 
with aluminum. You’ve got to have the spring far- 
ther aft than this so as to have a good long 
span of elastic. I don’t know what will happen up 
in the air when the power is transferred. Your pro- 
peller will probably slow down a second or two; 
you’ve got to experiment with that. Your diffi- 
culty is going to be in utilizing the power supplied 
by the spring by some light, simple mechanism. 
Cogwheels eat up a lot of energy — but there’s a 
way, as my old college chum here would say, and 
it’s up to you.” 

The boy stood radiant as they rose to go. 

“Did you think of using the alarm apparatus?” 
Harry asked him. 

“ Yes, but now I see what can be done with it — 
and — you’re a genius.” 

“No, you* re the genius,” Harry answered; 
“ you’d have worked it up this way sooner or later. 
You see, your plane was too small for your motor; 
then, again, this isn’t a first-rate propeller, it hasn’t 
enough slant.” 

“ I know how to make one,” Penfield broke in. 


176 


^OY SCOUTS 


You cut strips of cigar-box wood, glue them on 
top of each other, put a nail in the middle, then be- 
fore they begin to dry, twist them a little, as you 
do with a pack of cards. When the pile dries, whit- 
tle off the uneven edges, and you’ve got a dandy 
propeller. It’s easier than trying to make one out 
of one piece.” 

‘‘ How’d you learn that ? ” Harry asked. 

Oh, I thought of it when I saw some one twist 
a pack of cards.” 

They went up a gravel walk which wound 
through the green lawn, and found Mr. and Mrs. 
Danforth on the porch. Penfield disappeared and 
Mrs. Danforth greeted the boys, thanking Harry 
profusely for his service to her son. They found 
it was true that Mr. Danforth was building a house 
in Oakwood and that the family were to go there 
early in the Fall. 

We have done ever)rthing we could for Pen- 
field,” said Mrs. Danforth. We bought this place 
so that he might have the mountain air, and we are 
leaving New York for the same reason. Yet we 
can’t get him to go outdoors and play with other 
boys. He would much rather sit in the house and 
read. Last year the boys in Ticonderoga had a 
baseball eleven, the small boys, and asked him to 
play quarterstop — ” 

‘‘ Shortstop,” corrected her husband. 

But we couldn’t get him to, he simply wouldn’t. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


177 

And it was the same with football. He would not 
go on the frying pan.’’ 

‘‘ Gridiron,” said Mr. Danforth. 

Diamond,” said Mrs. Danforth. 

“No, ‘ diamond ’ is in baseball.” 

“ Well, then, where was it they wanted him to 
play quarterdeck?” 

“ Quarterdeck is on a ship ; Roger said something 
about quarterback, but Pen couldn’t play quarter.” 

“Why don’t you have him join the scouts?” 
asked Gordon. 

“ I wish you boys would take him in hand this 
Fall,” said Mr. Danforth. 

“ He spends all his time indoors making aero- 
planes and reading about them.” 

“ Well, that’s a good thing,” said Harry. “ But 
he ought to get outdoors, of course. I’ve been tell- 
ing him about an aviation contest they’re getting 
up in Oakwood, and he thinks he’d like to enter. 
Suppose we get him to join the scouts after we all 
get home, and then — ” 

“ Do they shoot off guns ? ” asked Mrs. Danforth, 
looking fearfully at Harry’s rifle. 

“ Sometimes, but not the younger ones. It would 
be a great thing for your boy.” 

The answer surprised him. “ I think it would be 
splendid.” 

An hour later, as Mr. Danforth was showing 
the boys over the place, he stopped abruptly. 


[BOY SCOUTS 


178 

You’ll stay over night with us ? ” Harry thanked 
him but said it was impossible. He knew the house 
was full of guests ; the tennis courts were crowded 
with young people, among whom he could distinctly 
see the valiant hero of the day before bobbing 
about, and he thought of his own and Gordon’s very 
limited wardrobe. Then, too, they were anxious 
to lose no more time. 

‘‘ Well, then,” said Mr. Dan forth, ‘‘ I won’t urge 
you, but you know you’re welcome. Now I want 
to make some little acknowledgment for what you 
did yesterday — something in the way of a trophy, 
as you might say.” He had evidently sized Harry 
up with his wonted business shrewdness, and he 
avoided the word reward.” His tact did him 
small good, however. 

‘‘ I don’t think you could make any better ac- 
knowledgment than you have done,” said Harry, 
feeling a trifle uncomfortable, as he always did 
when any one praised him. He spoke in his cus- 
tomary careless tone, but his nervous little smile 
seemed to say that he would like to have done with 
all this. This uneasiness of the boy who was al- 
ways so much the master of himself was amusing. 

‘‘ Of course, it would be absurd,” Mr. Danforth 
continued, *"to ask you if you are fond of the 
water.” Gordon’s eyes opened wide and he lis- 
tened with rapt attention. “ The boat we came 
across in was recently brought up from New York. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


179 


But before that my elder son, who is away at pres- 
ent, ordered one which we tried, but found too 
small for our parties. In fact, it’s nothing but a 
little motor dory. It’s down by the boat-house 
now, and I want you to tumble your freight into it 
and take it along just to remember us by — or 
leave it here till you come back if you’d rather.” 

There was an awkward pause. Gordon stood in 
terrible suspense. 

‘‘ I couldn’t do that, Mr. Danforth,” said Harry. 

I don’t know how to thank you, and if you knew 
how fond of the water I am, you’d see how the 
idea of a present of that kind nearly turns my 
head. You’ve — you’ve hit me in the weakest 
spot,” he said, kicking the gravel walk and smiling 
ruefully, “but I can’t take it — I — I — just 
can’t.” 

“ Why can’t you?” 

“ Because it’s one of our rules to accept nothing 
for service to a stranger. We have our own 
awards, honors, and of course we can try for those. 
That’s different. Saving life isn’t always hard, 
anyway; the little fellow isn’t heavy, and, well, I 
guess obeying rules is sometimes harder. Maybe 
that’s the good thing about rules.” His foot still 
kicked the gravel, nervously. 

“ Now, look here, my boy, you listen to me. 
That’s all nonsense, and what’s more, I don’t believe 
you understand the rule.” 


i8o 


BOY SCOUTS 


Yes, I do, Mr. Danforth, it’s part of the law.” 

‘‘Well, see how lawyers differ about the law,” 
he went on cheerfully, “ and besides, you can’t have 
a law that isn’t constitutional — you must know 
that. Now here’s a rule which infringes on per- 
sonal liberty, which forbids me to dispose of a boat 
that I don’t want. That isn’t fair, now, is it ? ” 

“That’s right, Harry,” broke in Gordon, “we 
have no right to interfere with personal liberty — 
no one would say that was right. We’d have no 
right to even if we wanted to, Harry.” 

Harry laughed in spite of himself. 

“ Last year,” Mr. Danforth went on, “ I gave a 
thousand dollars to the library out in the little West- 
ern town where I was born. They didn’t refuse it. 
This year I gave five thousand dollars to help start 
a hospital. They took it all right.” 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ if you wanted to do some- 
thing for the Scout organization, I couldn’t stop 
you, but — ” 

Mr. Danforth seemed about to speak, then sud- 
denly changed his mind, studying Harry closely. 
The boy was not aware of the scrutiny, for his eyes 
were on the ground. Neither did he know that he 
had put an idea into this kindly gentleman’s shrewd 
mind. 

“What, for instance?” Mr. Danforth asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know; I didn’t just mean to say 
that.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN i8i 

** Is there any reward, or honor, as you call it, for 
doing a service to the Boy Scouts ? ” 

“ There is, yes, sir. But I think it’s only given in 
very rare cases. There was one boy up in Maine 
who stopped a forest fire which threatened a big 
summer pavilion that the organization owned. I 
think they made him the award, but that’s the only 
case I’ve heard of. I think the rule says, ‘ rare and 
exceptional service,’ or something like that. My 
friend here knows the regulations better than I do. 
I think that’s the only case.” 

What is it called?” 

‘‘ The gold cross,” said Harry. 

‘‘Where is the headquarters of the organiza- 
tion ? ” 

“ It’s in New York, sir,” said Gordon. 

“ I see.” 

Penfield joined them, and they wandered down to 
the shore. “ Let me show you the boat, anyway,” 
Mr. Danforth urged. 

“I’d rather not, sir,” said Harry, hesitatingly. 
« I — well, I’d just rather not.” Instinctively he 
held out his hand, and Mr. Danforth shook it cor- 
dially. 

“ There’s no use asking you to think it over ? ” 

“ No, sir, but I don’t know how to thank you — I 
wish I did. You’ll let Penfield join us in the Fall, 
won’t you ? ” 

“Of course, I want him to.” 


BOY SCOUTS 


182 

“He’s going to walk away with the prize cup,” 
Harry added. 

“Yes, and he’ll accept it, too,” was Mr. Dan- 
forth’s final shot, as the two scouts got into the boat 
in which Pat was to take them across the lake. 

“ Good-by, Pen,” said Harry, shaking hands with 
the little fellow. “ You work up that idea now, and 
make your planes large enough, and don’t forget to 
flex them the way I showed you — get some strips 
of whalebone. We’ll be home when you get to Oak- 
wood, and we’ll sail in and win that trophy so easily 
it’ll be a shame to take it.” 

“ He’s a mighty nice little fellow, and clever too,” 
Harry said, as they crossed the lake. Gordon dis- 
dained to reply. Neither did he speak as they left 
the boat and started across the quarter-mile stretch 
of flat country toward Dibble Mountain. 

“ Where are we going, anyway ? ” he finally de- 
manded sullenly. 

“ Up Dibble Mountain to spy round the country 
— where’d you think? ” was Harry’s cheery answer. 

“ How’d / know?” 

“ Why, that was the idea, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ I don’t care where we go.” 

“ What’s the matter. Kid ? ” 

“ Nothing the matter with me. Goodness, I can 
speak, can’t I ! ” 

“ Well, what are you grouching about, then ? ” 

“ Who’s grouching? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


183 


“ You are ; don’t you want to hunt up the troop ? ” 

** Oh, certainly, if you care to.” 

“ We’d be a couple of gumps to go back home 
now.” 

‘‘Well, there’s more than one way of being a 
gump.” 

“ Refusing a boat, for instance ? What do I 
want of a boat? I’ve got you along. Kid, and that’s 
all I care about. I’d rather have you than twenty 
boats. Come now, brace up, old man.” 

“ You didn’t have sense enough to be convinced by 
reason. That was a fine argument about the public 
library and the hospital.” 

“ I know it. Kid. I don’t claim to have much 
sense — you’ll just have to put up with me.” 

“ You won’t gain anything, either,” Gordon con- 
tinued spitefully. “ My father knows him ; he be- 
longs to a trust and he’ll manage to get around the 
law all right.” 

“ He’s a pretty shrewd business man, I should 
say,” Harry commented. 

“ You bet he is, and he’ll think up a way.” 

“ He’s like you. Kid, eh?” 


CHAPTER XIV 


ON DIBBLE MOUNTAIN 

The belated quest of the needle in the haystack 
now went forward in real earnest. In the cool of 
that same afternoon they stood on the brow of Dib- 
ble Mountain. Gordon’s hands were dyed purple 
from the berries he had picked and eaten along the 
way, and a goodly smootch ornamented his cheek. 
Sometimes the ascent was so steep that they found 
the easiest way was to “ shinny ” up the slender 
trees along the mountain side, and step off on to 
the jutting cliffs. It was slow work. From a great 
bowlder they finally looked down upon the surround- 
ing country, which now, for the first time, as Gordon 
said, actually did look like a map. 

To the east, and almost under them, as it seemed, 
was the lake, and beyond it the green hills of west- 
ern Vermont. On its northern side the mountain 
sloped gradually, including Breed’s Hill and Sugar 
Hill in its easy descent, and beyond these lay the 
little village of Crown Point. Close on the west 
rose the great bulk of Buck Mountain, towering 
above them and closing out their view. Five miles 
southward lay Ticonderoga, and looking to the west 
184 


BOY SCOUTS 


185 


of the village the boys followed an imaginary course 
northward, trying to pick out in the dense woods the 
location of the Albany camp. The several roads 
which they had traversed looked like gray pencil- 
ings. 

Between them and the lofty Buck Mountain ran a 
high, walled valley, almost a canon indeed, known as 
Burgoyne's Pass, for it was through this valley that 
the British general led his army for the surprise of 
Ticonderoga, — the army which, hungry and for- 
lorn, was destined to surrender to the Americans at 
Saratoga. Far in the north, but near enough to see 
its outline clearly, rose Bald Knob, a veritable mon- 
arch amid its great neighbors. Here and there thin 
columns of smoke rose, suggesting pleasant habita- 
tions and reminding the hungry boys that it was 
supper time. 

“ Well, what do you think of our seats up in the 
family circle. Kid? Pretty good view up here, 
hey?” 

‘‘ It’s A-No. I ! But I don’t see the troop, do 
you ? ” 

‘‘ Certainly, right over there.” 

‘‘Not! That’s a church! Let’s take a squint 
through that field glass, will you ? Placing the tele- 
scope to his eye,” Gordon continued, suiting the ac- 
tion to the word, “ our young hero now proceeded 
to gaze round the landscape, when suddenly — ” 

“ The bully, who was standing near,” interrupted 


i86 BOY SCOUTS 

Harry, also suiting his action to the word, gently 
took it from him” 

‘‘ Ha ! I will be even with you yet ! ” said Gor- 
don, dramatically. 

‘‘ Kid, I think the best thing for us to do is to 
camp here for the night. If the moon comes out, 
we can see pretty nearly the whole section of coun- 
try that I marked on the map — I mean we could 
see any smoke that rose. This is the very nearest 
mountain to the shore. We can overlook the low 
land immediately north and south. As for the west, 
that big chunk of earth is in the way, but they 
wouldn’t be to the west. If we have to go up Buck 
Mountain, we will. But to-night I think we’d bet- 
ter perch here, and when these folks about the coun- 
try get through supper they’ll let their fires go out, 
and any smoke we see after that will be from a 
camp-fire. There’s no use going west of that ridge, 
is there ? ” 

‘‘ What ridge? ” 

‘‘Why, we’re in the Champlain Valley; this 
mountain happens to be standing almost alone, 
commanding north and south.” 

“ Is it standing in the bottom of the valley, 
Harry?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How about old shaggy-headed Buck, next door, 
here ? ” 

“ That’s part of the ridge.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 187 

I believe you're honest, Harry, so I’ll take your 
word for all that.” 

‘‘ All right, we’ll stay here, then.” 

“ But answer me one question, Harry, before I 
trust my fate to thee. Where is the other side of 
the valley ? ” 

‘‘ Over in Vermont. The Green Mountains.” 
Gordon looked about. Over there ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, but I’m not considering that side. I’m 
only considering this side of the lake.” 

‘‘You are splitting the valley down the middle 
like a piece of kindling wood ? ” 

“ Correct.” 

“ Harry, you would not deceive me ? ” 

“ I’ll gag you in a minute.” 

“And this mountain is a kind of knot in the 
wood, Harry ? Do all the splitting you like, but for 
goodness sake, be careful — ” 

Harry placed his hand over Gordon’s mouth, and 
by a dexterous movement tumbled him on to the 
ground. “ Get up now, and help pitch camp, and 
I’ll make you a rice pudding with figs in it. How 
does that strike you ? ” 

“ I can stand it if you can.” 

“ No sooner said than stung,” observed Harry. 
Their first business was to find water, and this 
they soon discovered — a crystal spring, ice cold, 
that bubbled temptingly up between the rocks. 
While Gordon kindled a fire, Henry felled *a small 


BOY SCOUTS 


1 88 

sapling and binding it horizontally between two 
other saplings, in a sheltered spot, threw his balloon 
silk shelter over it, drawing it diagonally toward the 
earth on either side. Gordon kept up a running ac- 
companiment as he busied himself with the fire- 
place. 

“ ‘ Oh, we are merry mountaineers, 

And have no carking cares or fears.’ 

What kind of a care is a carking care, Harry? 

“ Don’t know.” 

One that’s made out of khaki, I guess — don’t 
you throw that ! Roll that green log this way, will 
you, Harold? Many thanks. Placing the green 
log in a parallel position to the other one, our young 
hero now knelt stealthily — 

“ Our young hero will never see home again if 
he isn’t careful,” said Harry, as he tugged at the 
cover of a can. 

‘‘ When suddenly,” continued Gordon, the 
bully — ” 

But actions spoke louder than words. The bully 
let fly both camp cushions, one after the other, and 
under this rapid fusillade our young hero ” sank 
to the ground. 

“ Coward ! Coward ! ” he called. 

Look here. Kid,” said Harry, standing over him 
and brandishing the can opener, “ I’ve got you on the 
top of this lonely mountain. My contract provides 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


189 


that I shall accompany you in searching for camp. 
It does not include your old friend Alger, nor Harry 
Castleman, either. In just a minute — ” 

Gordon rose contritely. ‘‘ What next — Har- 
old?” 

Put some water to boil.” 

They sat with their backs against the trunk of a 
large tree, and Gordon admitted that fried bacon 
never tasted so good, and that nothing went so well 
with it as pilot biscuit. “ I don’t see what they have 
bread and butter for, anyway,” said he. But his in- 
ventive genius would not long remain satisfied with 
the fare which Harry provided, and presently he was 
announcing luscious combinations. “ I say, try this, 
Harry — it’s simply great ! ” He handed Harry 
two slices of bacon with a fig between them. When 
the rice pudding was served, words failed him. He 
ate it with silent and serene delight. They topped 
off with squares of chocolate, on one of which Gor- 
don was on the point of pouring a little fly-dope ” 
by way of experiment. 

When they had finished the meal, Gordon sug- 
gested ‘‘going back the way they had come,” be- 
ginning with chocolate, thence to rice pudding, 
thence to bacon ; but Harry vetoed this novel plan. 

It was with considerable suspense that they 
awaited the rising of the moon. As the twilight 
faded, the smoke which rose here and there in 
the distance disappeared till no stir was visible on the 


190 


BOY SCOUTS 


horizon. The boys knew that a cooking fire in the 
open, unless it were very close at hand, would hardly 
be discernible, but they set their faith in the camp- 
fire of huge logs, such as Red Deer had never tired 
of describing. About nine o’clock Gordon, who had 
gone to the spring for water, came rushing back, 
wildly pointing to a circling line of smoke in the 
southwest which was thrown into clear relief against 
the moonlit sky. 

‘‘ Look, Harry, there they are ! ” he cried. 

‘‘ Yes, I saw that,” said Harry. “ You see that 
little silvery streak just beyond? That’s the 
stream. It’s the Albany camp. I’d like first rate 
to be there with them, too.” 

We’ll see them again,” said Gordon, somewhat 
crestfallen. 

“ You bet,” Harry answered, ‘‘ when we surprise 
them in the old fort.” 

“ We’ll give them a jocular demonstration, all 
right, hey, Harry ? ” 

‘‘ Ocular ! ” said Harry. 

They played mumbly-peg in the moonlight, and 
discussed the proposed attack upon the “ British 
stronghold.” Gordon was for doing everything, 
even to the smallest detail, with historical fidelity. 
‘‘ You must be sure to call ‘ What, ho ! ’ Harry, 
when Mr. Wade asks who it is, because that’s in the 
book, and you must roll your r’s the way they do up 
in Vermont. I wish we had an old rusty sword! 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 191 

What’ll we do with them when we’ve made them 
prisoners, Harry ? ” 

‘‘ That’ll be our chance to return their hospitality,” 
Harry answered. “They’ll be the guests of the 
Green Mountain Boys, and Mr. Wade will have to 
go away back and sit quietly down.” 

“ Oh, it’ll be great ! ” said Gordon, with a positive 
groan of delight. “ I wish it was the last two weeks 
of August now ! ” 

“ If we do it.” 

“// we do it? Of course, we’ll do it! ” 

It was ten o’clock or after when Gordon’s roam- 
ing vision was arrested by a thin, gray line rising 
out of the black woods far to the north. Harry 
got out his compass and found that it was a little 
west of north and, as nearly as he could judge, five 
or six miles distant. He studied it closely. 

“ That’s it, sure,” said Gordon. 

“You might run up there and see,” Harry an- 
swered dryly. “ I’ll wait till you get back.” He 
got out his map and tried to determine the locality. 
“ Port Henry is eight or nine miles north of here, 
see ? ” he said. “ It may possibly come from there, 
but it’s not coming out of a chimney, I’m almost cer- 
tain. Of course, there’s no telling how far north 
it is, but it’s probably this side of the high land 
which begins with Bulwagga Mountain. I dare say 
it’s between Bulwagga and the shore. There’s a 
stream there, too — Grove Brook — and that would 


192 


BOY SCOUTS 


attract them.’’ He studied it long and carefully. 

I don’t see any suggestion of lightness below it, do 
you ? It must be at least five miles off.” 

Harry, I have an idea ! ” 

‘‘ Good for you.” 

“You know Red Deer’s rule — eleven o’clock 
sharp. We all agreed to it. You remember what 
he said about not leaving any fire burning? Well, 
now, if they smother that at eleven o’clock — I 
can just see Conway jumping up like a little tin sol- 
dier and piling on green stuff as soon as Red Deer 
gives the word. You’ll see, Harry, something will 
happen to that at eleven o’clock ! ” 

Harry folded his map, took a piece of chocolate, 
and settled himself comfortably against the tree 
trunk. “ We’ll wait and see,” he said. 

The thin, distant column wavered in the moon- 
light, its top dissolving in the air. Sometimes it 
was scarcely visible. As eleven o’clock drew near, 
they watched it with growing suspense. The smoke 
in the southwest had long since died away. For 
twenty minutes or so before the hour the boys fan- 
cied that the column was losing somewhat in volume. 
Eleven o’clock came — five — ten minutes after 
eleven and nothing happened. Gordon looked puz- 
zled. “I — I guess, maybe. Red Deer’s watch is 
wrong,” he said. 

“ Look! ” shouted Harry, jumping to his feet. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 193 

The thread of smoke had suddenly expanded into 
a dense mass. They could see it plainly now. 

‘‘WeVe found them! WeVe found them!” 
shouted Gordon. 

When our young hero gets over his fit,” said 
Harry, I will gently remind him that we have not 
found them at all. There is something going on up 
in that direction — there seems to be a fire. That’s 
all we know.” But they watched the thickening 
mass intently. “ Well,” said Harry, we may as 
well obey the rule. Kid ; let’s turn in. In the morn- 
ing we’ll cut up through Crown Point village and 
camp on high ground to-morrow night.” 

“No, .yfr.' We’ll go straight — ” 

“ Where?” 

“ To that — to camp.” 

“Yes, but where?” 

“ Right where that smoke is.” 

“ There won’t be any smoke there to-morrow 
morning. Where do you propose to go ? Can you 
point me out on the map just where that smoke is? 
Well, then, come down out of your airship and 
listen to reason. If to-morrow is very clear we may 
possibly be able to pick out the smoke of the cook 
fire — assuming that that’s our own camp. But I 
don’t think there’s much chance of our seeing it. 
That smoke has been coming from several good- 
sized logs — it’s a big fire. To-morrow we’ll drop 


194 


BOY SCOUTS 


into Crown Point and return this little reticule to its 
owner and then — ” 

And you’ll ask questions in Crown Point, 
Harry, and they’ll tell you just where our camp is, 
and you’ll spoil the whole business. No sirree, 
we’ve picked up the trail ourselves, and I’m not go- 
ing to run the chance of our getting information.” 

I’ll promise not to ask a soul, Kid.” 

Then what will you do ? ” 

‘‘We’ll get up north of Crown Point and camp 
to-morrow night on Bulwagga Mountain. If my 
idea is correct, we ought to see that smoke to-mor- 
row night close underneath us. Then the next 
morning we can drop right in on them — if — ” 

“ There’s no if about it,” said Gordon. But he 
reluctantly agreed to this cautious advance, and they 
turned in for the night. Gordon sang Kipling’s 
“ Scout Song,” chastising his companion by way of 
accompaniment: • 

“ These are our regulations : 

There’s just one law for the scout. 

And the first and the last. 

And the future and the past. 

And the present and the perfect is, 

Look out ! ” 

With every emphasized word a camp cushion 
came down upon Harry’s head. “ And the first ” 
{bang) “and the last” {hang). 

“ You bet it’s the last ! ” said Harry, “ Look out ! ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


195 

and he promptly returned the compliment with the 
other cushion. 

‘‘And the first and the last, 

And the future and the past, 

I say, thaPs a terrible song, isn't it, Harry ? Say it. 
Go on, say it once. You can never get it out of 
your head. There was a fellow over in England 
— a tenderfoot — and he learned it and it drove 
him crazy. Go on, say it, Harry.” 

Who told you that?” 

‘‘You say it once — please.” 

Harry said it, and lost two hours of his night's 
sleep in consequence. For while Gordon slept 
peacefully, dreaming of what the next day was to 
bring forth, his friend lay looking out into the dark- 
ness and saying, over and over : 

“And the first and the last. 

And the future and the past. 

And the first and the last. 

And the future and the past. 

And the present and the perfect is, 

LOOK OUT ! ” 

He finally shouted the last two words in hopeless 
exasperation. 

“ What's the matter ? ” said Gordon, sitting sud- 
denly up. “ Look out for what ? ” 

“And the first and the last. 

And the future and the past,” 


196 


IBOY SCOUTS 


moaned Harry, while a smile of delight stole over 
Gordon’s sleepy countenance. 

‘‘ Kipling’s a fiend, isn’t he, Harry ? ” 

Kid, if you ever mention that song to me again. 
I’ll do something desperate ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE OWNER OF THE RETICULE 

The sleeping propensity of a top is nothing to 
the way Harry and Gordon slumbered. You cannot 
sleep such sleep indoors. You need the starry sky, 
the dark surrounding trees, the lullaby of cricket and 
locust, the low, musical rustle of leaves. Then you 
can sleep, as Gordon put it, ‘‘till the cows come 
home.” 

It must have been the custom for the cows in that 
vicinity to come home at seven a. m., for at that 
hour the boys awoke, and Harry soon had water 
boiling for the coffee. Of course, every one’s way 
of making coffee is by far the best way. The scout 
way is to bring your water to a boil first, then drop 
your coffee in and stir like the mischief. 

At eight-thirty they had every single thing in their 
bags and were on their way down the northern slope 
of the mountain. You would not have known that 
any one had camped at the spot except for the ashes 
of the fire and the beaver’s head scratched on a rock. 

They followed a winding, woodland path, scarcely 
visible in places. “ What’s this ? ” asked Gordon, 
197 


198 


tBOY SCOUTS 


picking up a small, flat, triangular stone which his 
alert eyes had discovered. It proved to be an In- 
dian arrow-head about an inch and a half long and 
nearly an inch wide at one end, tapering to a blunt 
point at the other. Harry showed his companion 
how, wedged into the split end of a stick and bound 
firmly, it constituted the old-time arrow of the 
bloody Mohawk tribe, whose savage warwhoops had 
no doubt once been heard along this obscure moun- 
tain path. 

Gordon trudged along, kicking the earth in search 
of more of these murderous souvenirs. Although 
they searched carefully, they could find no more of 
them, but Harry came upon something which held a 
grewsome interest. At the base of an old oak tree 
where the earth was gray and powdery, he found 
the head of a tomahawk, eaten with rust and so 
encrusted with earth that he was able to break 
off the corners of it as if it had been made of 
plaster. 

‘‘ I guess some poor chap met his end here,’’ Harry 
said soberly. How would you like to be tied 
against that old tree and have a pack of savages 
throw these things at you ? ” 

Gordon shuddered. Do you suppose we’re on 
the old trail of the Mohawks, Harry? '' 

They were, indeed, treading the very ground over 
which that treacherous, bloodthirsty tribe had once 
carried their victims to torture and massacre. The 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


199 


thought of it had a quieting effect on Gordon, and 
they pressed their way along silently for a little 
while. Then he began humming: 

“Though you didn’t or you wouldn’t, 

Or you hadn’t or you couldn’t — ” 

What’s that ? ” asked Harry. 

‘‘ It’s the rest of that ‘ Scout Song,’ Harry,” said 
Gordon, looking slyly sideways at his friend. 

“You know what I told you. Kid! So help 
me — 

“ Where do we come out ? ” Gordon interrupted. 

“ We’re headed for Crown Point Centre.” 

Within an hour they came upon an open road and 
soon reached the village. It was not necessary to 
inquire for the owner of the little reticule, for on a 
wooden post outside the post-office was a notice 
written in a delicate hand on a half sheet of note 
paper : 


LOST 

Lady’s small hand-bag on road near 
Ticonderoga. Finder will confer great 
favor by kindly leaving with postmaster 
or returning to 

Miss Antoinette Crosby, 

Buck Mansion. 


200 


BOY SCOUTS 


The word great was underlined several times, 
the word “kindly’’ was underlined twice, and the 
word “ Miss ” once. 

“ How far is it to Buck Mansion ? ” Harry asked, 
sauntering into the post-office. 

The postmaster took a leisurely scrutiny of both 
boys. “ What yer want to go up thar for ? ” 

“ Just to see some one. About how far is it ? ” 

“ Well, up here folks calls it three mile. City 
folks sometimes calls it five. One man that was up 
thar last summer calc’lated ’twas ten — said ’twas 
ten mile down and twenty mile back. He was a 
kind of a comic. But I can tell you right now they 
ain’t got a vacant room in the house.” 

“ Thank you,” said Harry. “ Come on. Kid, 
we’ll go up there. We don’t need to get up Bul- 
wagga Mountain before night.” 

The distance to Buck Mansion was somewhere 
between one mile and ten, and the way led them 
through a fragrant country with houses at intervals 
along the road. To-day the distance was rather 
shorter than usual, or else the “ scout pace ” helped 
to make it seem so, for within an hour the boys 
reached a spacious white house, standing well back 
from the road. The lawn in front was covered with 
trees, where a number of hammocks hung. The 
fence skirting the road was broken in one place by 
a little summer-house containing a pump, and the 
half of a cocoanut shell hung near by way of a cup. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


201 


The position of this little well-house on the very 
edge of the public road afforded a tempting resting- 
place for tired wayfarers. Through the trees the 
boys could see that a deer’s head with spreading 
antlers hung over the doorway of the house. On 
the deep porch easy-chairs stood about, and in a 
frame swing to one side of the lawn a solitary figure 
sat writing. With this exception, not a soul was to 
be seen, which seemed odd in a spot that afforded 
such tempting facilities for idleness and repose. 

The deserted village,” said Harry, ‘‘ but I guess 
this is the place, all right.” 

Just then voices reached the boys through the 
trees : 

‘‘ Shall I come to you ? ” 

‘‘ No, try to go out.” 

‘‘ She’s for that wicket.” 

She can’t get through.” 

I could send her down to you.” 

She plays before I do.” 

Well, I’m going to try to hit her anyway.” 

There was a second’s silence, then a whack, then 
Missed ! I told you so ! ” 

‘‘ Come on over there,” said Harry. 

On a smooth croquet ground an exciting war was 
going on. So intent was the group of ladies on the 
game that it was fully five minutes before any one 
spied the two scouts who leaned on the picket fence 
watching the play. Then one of them came toward 


202 (BOY SCOUTS 

the fence, her croquet mallet over her shoulder like 
a musket. 

Excuse me for interrupting you,’' said Harry, 
removing his hat, ‘‘ but I didn’t like to come out on 
the ground. Is this Buck Mansion ? ” 

Yes, indeed,” she said, eying the boys curiously. 
‘‘ Is there some one you wish to see ? ” 

Is there a Miss Crosby here ? ” 

Indeed, there is. Nettie ! ” she called. Here 
are two young gentlemen to see you.” 

The figure in the swing rose quickly, spilling a 
writing tablet, a bag of candy, a fountain pen, and a 
magazine. As she straightened out her gown, 
which did not reach anywhere near the ground, the 
boys saw her to be a girl of not more than sixteen. 
They turned toward her. 

“ Miss Crosby? ” Harry asked. 

‘‘ Ye-es.” 

‘‘ I think this little hand-bag is yours.” 

‘‘Oh, did you find it?” 

“Yes, and I ought to have returned it sooner. 
I’m afraid I found it within an hour of the time you 
lost it, but better late than never.” He handed her 
the bag. 

“ Oh, thank you so very, very much. How did 
you find it ? ” 

“ Oh, I was just amusing myself noticing where 
your auto broke down.” 

“ It isn’t my auto.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


203 


“ And I picked up the bag on the stone wall.” 

Oh, thank you so very much for your trouble. 
The bag isn’t really worth anything, but — ” She 
stopped short and looked at him suspiciously. 
‘‘ How did you know I was in an auto ? ” 

‘‘You just said so — or said as much,” smiled 
Harry. 

“ Yes, but you said it hrst’* 

“ Well,” said Harry, driven to it, “ I happened 
to be along the road above Ticonderoga that night, 
and I saw the auto tracks in the moonlight and the 
ground all rumpled, and, oh, one thing and another, 
and then the bag on the wall. So I put it in my 
pocket to return it if I could find the owner.” 

“ You knew we broke down ? ” 

“ I thought so.” 

“ Oh, isn't that just wonderful? ” 

“ That’s nothing,” said Gordon. “ He does 
things like that every day — he does them by de- 
duction.” 

“ Deduction ? ” 

“Yes — putting two and two together and mak- 
ing four.” 

“ That’s arithmetic,” said she. 

“ For instance, he thought this bag belonged to 
an elderly lady,” Gordon continued. “ Of course, 
once in a great while he’s wrong,” he added quickly, 
rather regretting that he had selected this particular 
illustration of Harry’s talent for deducing. 


204 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘^What made him think thatf Why, it's a pale 
blue — it matches — what made you think that ? " 
she demanded of Harry. 

On account of the smelling salts,” said Gordon. 

She opened the bag and closed it hastily. I 
think you’re just horrid!'' she said, looking at 
Harry. But she did not think he was horrid. 
Quite otherwise., 

‘‘ You see,” explained Harry, I had to open it 
to see if it contained a name or address.” 

Of course,” she said, ‘‘ but it was just horrid to 
think I was an old maid! Do you always finds 
things out about people that way — what is it ? ” 

“ Deduction,” Gordon spoke up. “ All scouts 
have to learn to decide things that way — it’s dandy 
fun.” 

''I think it’s horrid. I suppose you’re just find- 
ing things out about me now. It makes me creepy! 
But you’re very kind,” she promptly added. ‘‘Tell 
me, honest and true, what are you deducing about 
me now ? ” 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ I deduce that you’ve been 
writing a letter and underlining lots of words.” 

She opened her mouth in astonishment. “ You’re 
a perfect ghoul ! ” said she. “ But I haven’t even 
asked you to sit down yet. Won’t you come over 
here and rest? ” She led the way fo the little well- 
house by the roadside, giving Gordon an oppor- 
tunity to whisper to Harry : 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


205 


“Now, you see, Harry -r- if you only had your 
uniform on! Did you see how she looked at me? 
It wasn’t I she cared about, Harry — it was the 
scout uniform. The scout suit catches them every 
time. I know more about those things than you do, 
Harry, because I’ve had more experience. Now 
you’ve learned a lesson.” 

There was no chance for Harry to reply, for the 
young lady had reached the little shelter and stood 
waiting for them. She was an extremely pretty 
young lady, with a great mass of dark hair held to- 
gether in the back by a huge bow, and she had a 
very snub nose and a way of puckering her brows 
into a kind of whimsical frown. A number of re- 
bellious locks hung about her forehead, shaken loose 
by the habit she had of giving all her adjectives a 
racking emphasis, thus causing her head to be in a 
state of almost continual agitation. She wore a 
white sailor blouse, with blue trimming and a blue 
anchor worked in front. Also a blue braided cord 
with a tiny round mirror on the end, used in captur- 
ing and confining the loose locks after a particu- 
larly emphatic tirade. The other extremity of Miss 
Antoinette was on the whole more demure and re- 
poseful, her small feet being encased in bewitching 
little pumps, which were hardly worth while at all 
since they were almost completely obscured by enor- 
mous silk bows. 

It took Gordon about one minute to forget his 


2o6 


BOY SCOUTS 


anxiety to keep secret the object of their wanderings, 
and presently Miss Antoinette was apprised of their 
intention of ascending Bulwagga that very day. 
She said it was all wonderful. 

‘‘And it was so clever” she went on, “your 
knowing that I was autoing. They were friends of 
mine over in Vermont, and have such a lovely place. 
Mr. Danforth — he’s just, oh, so generous and such 
a dear ! It was his son, Roger, that I was with that 
evening, and oh, he’s so drea~dfully unlucky I ” 

“ I should call him lucky,” said Harry. 

“ Oh, no, you wouldn’t. Something happens 
every time he goes out. Now what are you looking 
that way for ? You’re deducing this very minute — 
you know you are ! ” 

Harry clasped his hands behind his head, settled 
far back on the seat, and looked serious and 
thoughtful. Gordon cast his eyes heavenward as if 
buried in deep calculation. 

“There must be some cause for this bad luck. 
Kid,” said Harry. “ What do you make of it ? He 
understands autos perfectly, I suppose. Miss 
Crosby ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, he has two.” 

“ Interested in mechanical matters, then ? ” 

“ Oh, very much.” 

“ Probably has a motor boat, also ? ” 

“ Yes, he has.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


207 

“ Such traits usually run in families. Has he 
any brothers and sisters ? ’’ 

‘‘Yes, the dearest little fellow — zxidi he^s inter- 
ested in mechanical things, too.” 

“ Ah,” said Harry, thoughtfully. “ He would 
probably be interested more in some other form of 
mechanics — aeroplanes, for instance.” 

“ He is, he is ! ” cried Miss Antoinette. 

“And if he spent too much time reading and 
studying about them it might affect his health,” sug- 
gested Gordon, innocently. 

“I catch your idea,” Harry said. “You think 
the older brother might be preoccupied by concern 
for the little fellow’s health, and so not give his full 
attention to his car ? ” 

“ That might account for his having so many ac- 
cidents,” said Gordon. “ He ought to take his 
chauffeur along.” 

“ Possibly he leaves him at home to help the lit- 
tle fellow with his aeroplanes,” said Harry, after a 
moment’s thoughtful pause. “ Living in the city, as 
I suppose they do, the little chap would naturally 
take advantage of being up here to try out his 
models. And they might be afraid of his meeting 
with some accident — being so near the lake, too. 
Is his health at all delicate. Miss Crosby?” he 
added. 

“ Yes, indeed/' cried the girl, who had been star- 
ing from one to the other in speechless amazement. 


208 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ They all worry about him so much. And he does 
stay indoors too much, reading and experimenting 
with his aeroplanes. Roger is always speaking of 
it, and I believe he does leave his chauffeur at home 
for that very reason.’’ 

‘‘ Then, too,” said Gordon, placing the tips of his 
fingers together, “ the chauffeur would be needed for 
the other auto — taking parties about. The house 
is probably full of guests most of the time.” 

‘‘ Pre-cisely,” said Harry. ‘‘ And the father 
probably doesn’t understand much about motors,” 
he added, as an after-thought. “ He naturally 
wouldn’t. May I ask if the chauffeur is Irish, Miss 
Crosby ? ” 

‘‘ His name is Pat,” she answered, as if in a 
trance. 

‘‘ Probably cheerful and good-natured,” mused 
Harry. So you think they do worry about the 
younger brother’s health ? ” 

Oh, I know they all do, for his lungs aren’t 
strong.” 

‘‘ I should say they’ll probably move to the coun- 
try before very long,” said Gordon, with great de- 
liberation. ‘‘The little boy would be better there. 
Very likely they’ll build in some good, healthful 
suburb, most likely somewhere in New Jersey, and 
give up their city residence altogether.” 

“ Not necessarily,” said Harry. 

But Miss Antoinette had jumped to her feet. “ I 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


209 


never in my life!'^ she exclaimed. ‘‘It’s perfectly 
miraculous! That’s exactly what they are going to 
do ! Mr. Dan forth is building a hea-utiful place up 
on a hill in New Jersey, and they’re going there to 
live this Fall!” 

‘‘ ’Twas merely a guess of my friend,” said 
Harry, in a deprecating way, as he rose to pump 
some water. But the repressed twitching around 
Gordon’s rebellious lips made the girl suspicious. 

‘‘You’re just fooling me!” she cried. “You 
must know them ! ” 

In a few minutes it was all out. Gordon, en- 
tirely heedless of Harry’s scowls and embarrass- 
ment, gave her a complete account of the rescue of 
little Penfield and their subsequent visit at the Dan- 
forth place. She was entirely of Gordon’s way of 
thinking as to the acceptance of the boat, and as- 
sured Harry that there was really no hope of es- 
caping Mr. Danforth. “You might just as well 
have taken it,” she said, “ and then you wouldn’t 
have to be worrying about what he might do next.” 

“ You don’t think he’ll really get up a conspir- 
acy ? ” Harry laughed. 

“ I know he will, and it will serve you right; you 
did interfere with his liberty.” 

“ Now you see,” sneered Gordon, with great sat- 
isfaction. “What did I tell you? He never takes 
my advice,” he added, confidentially, to the girl. 
“ Now you take to-day, if he only had — ” 


^210 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ Is that a tennis court over there ? ” Harry in- 
terrupted. 

‘‘Yes — do you like tennis? I hate croquet — 
they all play croquet here, and there’s not a hoy in 
the place. Oh, I wish I were you, you can have 
such fun, going wherever you want to, and just 
camping out.” 

They walked over through the croquet field and 
were presented to twelve ladies and two lonely gen- 
tlemen, all of whom showed a lively interest in them, 
as people usually do in boy scouts. Then to the 
tennis court, where Miss Crosby and Harry played 
a lively game, while Gordon sat on a rustic seat and 
gorged himself with apples. Between games she 
made a hasty trip to her mother on the croquet 
ground, and presently that lady strolled over and in- 
sisted that the boys remain to dinner. 

Gordon’s eye was on Harry, and he did not dare 
decline. They found the summer guests a cordial 
set, who were only too glad to vary the daily rou- 
tine of alternate croquet and bridge by entertaining 
them and plying them with questions. 

Early in the afternoon they set forth for Bul- 
wagga Mountain. Miss Crosby had acquired a 
lively interest in their enterprise and had made them 
promise, at parting, that they would call again if 
they could possibly manage it, “ and show me some 
more deducing/' she had said, with an injured look. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


2II 


And she added that she would ‘'certainly stay up 
until midnight, and try to discover smoke, and if 
she did discover it, she would know that they had 
seen it too, and would be with their friends in the 
morning, and wouldn't that be just dear?" 

Harry said it certainly would, but that it was too 
good to be true. 

‘‘ Now, Harry,” said Gordon, as they started into 
a clump of woods in the direction of the great Bul- 
wagga Mountain, “ the trouble with you is that you 
don’t recount your adventures. That’s the only 
trouble with you, Harry. You should have re- 
counted your adventures. There was your chance 
to recount them to a maiden.” 

‘‘A what?” 

‘‘A maiden — it’s the same as a girl. And 
you’ve got the very best kind of an adventure, too 
— rescuing some one from drowning — it’s always 
a winner. Why, Harry, a maiden always marries 
a fellow that saves her from drowning — always! 
It’s all right to have adventures, but if you want to 
be a real hero, you’ve got to recount them. They 
always do in books. ‘After he recounted his ad- 
ventures — ’ ” 

“ Well, that shows I’m not much of a hero. Kid, 
doesn’t it?” 

“ I know, but you might be. You’ve got the ad- 
ventures all right, only you don’t recount them. 


212 


-BOY SCOUTS 


Fm not blaming you, Harry, because you don’t know 
much about girls. Now there was a fellow in a 
play, named Othello, and oh, cracky, Harry, but he 
was a peacherino! He used to recount his ad- 
ventures all the time — to a maiden. And he made 
a great hit, too. And you could do the same thing, 
Harry. There’s no kind of an adventure like a res- 
cue from drowning. Of course, I don’t say any- 
thing against pulling a maiden off the railroad track, 
especially if she’s bound with cruel thongs, because 
that’s a winner, too. But a rescue from drown- 
ing catches them every time. Why, don’t you sup- 
pose that Alger, and Henry, and men like that, 
know? You bet they do! ’Most all their heroes 
save people from drowning, and that’s how they 
win her hand. If I had an adventure like that. I’d 
recount it to maidens, you can bet! But I’m not 
saying you didn’t make a hit, Harry.” 

‘‘ Oh, stop that. Kid.” 

“No, I won’t stop it, either. If you’d only had 
on your khaki suit, like me, it would have been 
great. But even as it was, you made a hit, Harry.” 

“ You’re dreaming. Kid.” 

“All right; but you’re going there again, I can 
tell you that.” 

“ Not.” 

“ I bet you do.” 

“ I bet I don’t.” 

“ She invited you.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


213 


‘‘ She invited both of us.” 

Yes, but she meant you.” 

“ What the dickens gives you that idea ? ” 
I deduced it, Harry.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


GORDON INTERFERES IN FAMILY MATTERS 

At six o’clock that night the two boys stood on 
the summit of Bulwagga Mountain, or on one of the 
summits, for Bulwagga has two peaks. It was 
the hardest afternoon’s work they had ever under- 
taken. Long before they threw down their burdens, 
two thousand feet above sea level, Gordon had 
ceased to talk and devoted his breath to panting. It 
was a tough, tedious climb, but the game was well 
worth the candle. They looked off upon an endless 
landscape, dotted here and there with toy houses and 
pigmy villages. 

‘‘ What’s the use of sawing wood and laying 
bricks and building houses and churches,” said 
Harry, “if that’s all they amount to?” 

Indeed, Bulwagga, standing silent and serene, 
close to the shore of the great lake, seemed to be- 
little everything. There lay Crown Point, a modest 
little cluster of tiny buildings. There lay the lake, 
almost under them, with all its little juttings and 
indentations plain to view. There was the Crown 
Point peninsula curving out into the middle of the 
214 


BOY SCOUTS 


^15 

lake and pointing northward like a great, clumsy 
thumb. Inside it was Bulwagga Bay. 

Once upon a time, more than three centuries 
ago, the adventurous Champlain sailed up this great 
lake which bears his name, with an exploring party 
of merry Frenchmen. Instead of turning their 
prows eastward into the narrow channel formed by 
the peninsula, they sailed gayly into Bulwagga Bay, 
supposing that an open path lay before them. But 
the bay proved to be a trap. Down out of the fast- 
nesses of the old mountain came the Mohawk sav- 
ages, and the gay little company was caught like a 
rat. Harry, who knew the history of the lake, now 
saw just how it had happened. Many a time and 
oft had the bloody Mohawks made good use of this 
deceptive bay, and many who were caught and 
slaughtered there supposed they had reached the end 
of the winding sheet of water, for there was no sign 
posted on the end of the peninsula informing the 
explorer to turn to his left. 

But now the old mountain, which had so long 
been the secret ally of the bloody Mohawk tribe, 
gave up the secret, as if to say : ‘‘You see how we 
worked it. Wasn't it a great scheme ? 

“ Harry,” said Gordon, “ Fm all in — let's rest.” 

“Your motion is unanimously carried,” said 
Harry, sitting down on a rock. “ If I saw the camp 
ten feet in front of me now, I wouldn't budge. 
Now that's just about where I think the smoke 


2i6 


BOY SCOUTS 


was/’ he continued, pointing down into the woods 
which extended from the base of the mountain to 
the lake ; and if Fm right, we’ve got a grand-stand 
view on them, provided there’s a moon. Just as 
soon as they get their old logs blazing, weVe got 
them. 7/-^” 

“ Now you spoil it all when you say if, Harry. 
It isn’t necessary to say that. We’re sure to see them 
from up here. We’ve got them, sure, Harry. 

There was some reason for his hopefulness. Bul- 
wagga Mountain is, indeed, a njighty grand stand 
built on the shore of Lake Champlain. It is long 
and narrow, its length running parallel with the 
lake. There are two peaks, precisely placed, one 
at the northern, one at the southern, end of the 
ridge. By reason of Bulwagga Bay, the northern 
half of the mountain actually forms the shore, de- 
scending sheer like a great wall, as if to crowd the 
railroad into the water. The southern half sits 
back like a dress circle in a theater, or rather the 
lake flows wide of it, leaving a stretch of flat, 
wooded country between. Here the mountain 
slopes down from its southerly peak, admitting of a 
descent, if you are cautious and care to undertake it ; 
but there is no way to descend from the northern 
peak eastward except to go to the edge and jump 
off, a method which has never been popular with 
tourists. 

On his western extent old Bulwagga is more 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


217 


amiable. There is a road which works its way up 
toward the northern peak, as many a tired horse 
knows, but it does not get to the top ; and you alight 
and plod on till you look straight down into the bay 
and can see the ruins of the Crown Point fortress 
on the end of the chubby peninsula. The southerly 
summit looks down with lofty scorn upon the tour- 
ing parties that make the ascent of his brother peak, 
for he encourages no sightseers to come too near 
and trifle with his lonely majesty. 

It is all very well for Bulwagga to raise his twin 
crowns proudly and make a great show to summer 
boarders, but I can tell you that he might better bow 
his heads in shame, for he has a most bloody and 
disreputable history. I dare say there is not a 
mountain along the whole stretch of Lake Cham- 
plain and Lake George that has gotten itself mixed 
up in so many massacres. For years its fastnesses 
echoed with warwhoops and with the cries of the 
dying. It was a favorite stronghold of the savage 
and treacherous Mohawks. But all that is past. 

It was the baffling, lonely, wild southerly peak of 
old Bulwagga that the boys had succeeded in mount- 
ing. There was no road, no path, nothing but their 
compass to guide them. They had come up from 
the west and the spot where they threw themselves 
down commanded an unobstructed view of the 
stretch of woodland between them and the lake. As 
they looked down, a sudden jut of white smoke rose 


2i8 


BOY SCOUTS 


under the precipitous northern end of the mountain, 
the column traveling diagonally across the base of 
the peninsula toward the lake. 

“ Listen,” said Harry, and they heard the distant 
rattle of a hidden train, as it rushed across the 
peninsula to regain the shore. 

‘‘ My, but it’s lonely up here, isn’t it, Harry ? 
When are we going to eat, anyway ? ” 

As soon as little Gretchen brings in the firewood. 
I’ve got to sit right here so as to keep that woods 
down there in view. It wouldn’t be safe for me to 
move.” 

‘‘ It wouldn’t, wouldn’t it ? ” said Gordon, push- 
ing his staff against Harry’s chest and toppling him 
over backward. ‘‘ Get up and pitch camp, you lazy 
thing I ” 

They set to work putting up their shelter, and 
in a little while the frying pan sent forth its savory 
odor. 

‘‘ Let’s have some more of those bacon sand- 
wiches, Harry. Where are the figs ? ” 

All gone. Want coffee? ” 

‘‘ I certainly do.” 

“ It’ll keep you awake.” 

‘‘ Never ! A brass band wouldn’t keep me awake 
up here.” 

‘‘All right, hand me over that egg powder. 
Could you eat an omelette ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


219 

Could I ? Here you go, catch this — catch this 
chocolate, too.” 

‘‘ What’s that for? ” 

‘‘ Scrape some into the egg powder, Harry. It’ll 
make a sort of chocolate omelette.” 

Why not put some cereal in, too, while we’re 
about it ? ” 

^^Just the idea, and we’ll have a new breakfast 
food — choc-chocerealeg.” 

Reminds you of the Champastic Motor,” 
laughed Harry. ‘‘ I wonder how the little chap’s 
getting on with his model. ” 

‘‘ We’ll get him in the troop, hey, Harry ? ” 

‘‘ By all means.” 

After supper, to which both did full justice, they 
sat back to await the darkness. They had hoped 
to see some smoke which might indicate a cook fire, 
in the woods below, but supper time had come and 
gone and there had not been the faintest suggestion 
of any. It was true their outlook was by no means 
limited to the woods directly east of them. By 
shifting their position somewhat they could scan the 
country far to the west and south. But the woods 
to the east afforded an ideal spot for a camp ; there 
was the lake just beyond — it was just such a spot 
as Red Deer would have chosen and near enough to 
show the trained vision of a scout the smoke of its 
cook fire. But there was none, and both boys rather 
dreaded the approach of darkness with, perhaps, its 


220 


BOY SCOUTS 


greater disappointment. For Gordon enthusiastic- 
ally, and Harry quietly, had set their hopes all day 
on what a view from this old mountain might re- 
veal. 

‘‘ I know one thing,” said Harry, ‘‘ and that is, if 
we stay here over to-morrow. I’m going to find a 
place where little fishes dwell. Methinks I could 
dally with a fried trout. Sir Gordon.” 

“ But why should we hang around here over to- 
morrow, Harry ? ” 

Because, my son, we don’t happen to be weather- 
vanes on the top of a steeple. If we don’t spy any- 
thing down there, we’ve got to get over that way till 
we can command the west, — savvy ? ” 

‘‘That’s a good expression, Harry, ‘command 
the west.’ ” 

“You like it?” 

“It’s all right.” 

“ If I happen to use an expression you don’t like, 
just mention it.” 

“ The pleasure is mine,” said Gordon. 

Ten o’clock arrived — eleven. No sign of a 
camp-fire. Weary, sleepy, and disappointed, they 
turned in for the night. 

The morning broke damp and foggy, with a driz- 
zling rain veiling the country roundabout. The 
wind was east, the sky dull and heavy, giving no 
promise of clearing. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


221 


** Rain before seven, 

Clear before eleven,” 

sang Gordon, cheerfully. ‘‘ It’ll be a good day for 
fishing, anyway. I’m going after minnows. We’ll 
see if that trickle of water doesn’t broaden out some, 
hey?” 

‘‘ I can tell you that without going,” said Harry. 
‘‘ It does. It flows into the lake.” 

Rises in Bulwagga Mountain,” said Gordon, 

takes an easterly course, and flows into Lake 
Champlain. Correct ; be seated. Master Lord.” 

A little south by east,” said Harry, looking at 
his map. 

‘‘Aye, aye, sir,” Gordon answered. “A sail on 
the weather bow, Cap’n.” 

“Look here. Kid, we’ll have to stick it out up 
here to-day, and if there’s any sign of clearing by 
afternoon we’ll move over through this clump where 
we can command the west.” 

“ Don’t talk about commanding the west, Harry. 
Last night you were going to command the east, 
and now the east has got you rattled. I don’t see 
us commanding this old country at all. It seems 
to me the country is having a great laugh on us. 
Look at this game that we’re mixed up in now. 
This rain wasn’t on the map, was it? You give 
me a pain with your ridges and outlooks and things 
— and so does Red Deer with his blackboard charts ! 


222 


BOY SCOUTS 


You call this a peak? I don’t see any peak to it. 
It’s a jungle — that’s what it is! Where’s the 
peak?” 

We’re on it.” 

‘‘ Harry, you’re crazy. There’s no sign of a peak 
here.” 

‘‘Isn’t that other one a peak, Kid? Well, over 
there this one looks the same.” 

“All right,” said Gordon, as if to make allow- 
ance for his friend’s peculiarities, “only don’t talk 
about ‘ commanding the west.’ ” 

“ Getting discouraged, Kiddo ? ” 

“ No, I’m trusting to luck. I’m usually lucky. 
I found a quarter and a dime and a gold ring and 
a watch charm last year, and I believe I’ll run up 
against camp — that’s all.” 

“ Good for you ! Well, now, give me your ear. 
I was just going to rise to remark when you made 
your little speech, that we’ll go over to the western 
side of this sharp peak, this tack point, this 
spire — ” 


“And the first and the last, 

And the future and the past. 

And the first and the last — ” 

sang Gordon, doggedly. 

“ Keep still!” 

“ Well, then, you keep still.” 

“Kid, all you need is an apple. Now listen to 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


223 


your patrol leader. It’s a scout’s duty to obey his 
leader. You need to brush up on the law a little.” 

I suppose that precipice over there is what you 
call a contour line,” said Gordon, with deep sar- 
casm. 

‘‘ That’s what Uncle Sam’s surveyors call it, but, 
of course, anything you say — ” 

‘‘ And when it comes to the law,” continued Gor- 
don, ‘‘you just want to read up General Baden- 
Powell — what he says about chivalry. It’s a 
scout’s duty to recount his adventures to maidens.” 

“ Well, if I’d recounted a thrilling adventure like 
a rescue, she might have cried, Kid.” 

‘‘ Maidens don’t cry — they weep.” 

Well, this mutiny has got to be put down, any- 
way,” said Harry. “ I order you to dig a hole and 
bury this refuse, as per camping regulations of the 
Boy Scouts.” 

The odds and ends of breakfast (and they were 
not many) were soon disposed of ‘‘as per,” and 
Harry outlined his idea for exhausting all the pos- 
sibilities of spying which the mountain afforded, 
before, like the famous Duke of Yorkshire, they 
marched down again. 

Despite the drizzling rain, they made their way to 
where the little neighboring rivulet formed a pool 
with a bright, pebbly bottom, and here they scooped 
up minnows almost by the handful, until their pail 
was thick with the little, darting, silvery fishes. 


224 


BOY SCOUTS 


These Harry fried in cracker crumbs, and they sat 
under their little shelter and enjoyed them, Gordon 
keeping up a running comment on their tastiness 
and flavor. And I can tell you that if you happen 
to be on a lonely mountain on a drizzly day, you 
cannot do better than arrange yourself comfortably 
under your shelter, enjoy the remoteness, the wild- 
ness, laugh at the weather, and eat fried minnows. 

In the afternoon Harry, who was a true philoso- 
pher, took both camp cushions, which they had filled 
with balsam the night before, spread his blanket, 
pressed all available clothing into service to form a 
means of reclining, and settled back comfortably 
with a paper copy of Kidnapped,” which he had 
taken, the precaution to bring against the possibility 
of just such weather as this. 

‘‘If any one calls. Kid, Tm not at home — of- 
fice hours after six.” 

Gordon knew what that meant. He hated Rob- 
ert Louis Stevenson as a rival. As sure as a rainy 
day came, Harry would double up in a corner some- 
where, — in his room, in the library, in the troop 
room, — and be dead to the world. At such times 
Gordon was powerless, nothing could rouse his 
friend. He had hoped that Harry might get 
through with this trip without an attack of the kind. 
But now it had come. Stevenson, like rheumatism, 
was always to be counted on in bad weather. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


225 


‘‘ Why don’t you tackle ‘ Brave and Bold/ Kid? ” 
said Harry, as he settled down. Gordon chose to 
interpret this as a cowardly and slurring attack on 
Alger, and he disdained to reply. 

"‘If you’re going to be knocking around in the 
Scotch Highlands all afternoon, I might as well take 
a walk.” 

“ Don’t fall off the peak.” 

Gordon scorned this shallow attempt at humor. 
“ How near through are you, anyway ? ” 

“ Eight more chapters.” 

“ That’ll take you two hours. Good-by.” 

“ Here, take the compass — and don’t trip over 
those contour lines.” 

Gordon caught the compass, but his scout smile 
was conspicuous by its absence. The rain had held 
up somewhat, and he picked his way through the 
thick brush, every stir of which shook water upon 
him, for old Bulwagga was thoroughly soaked from 
the continuous drizzle. 

Stumbling and creeping on, he soon found him- 
self in a labyrinth which it was impossible to pass 
through, so interwoven were the limbs and vines. 
He retraced his path and was able to pick out a com- 
paratively open way around this tangled spot. 
Never had he seen such wildness. There was not 
a thing to indicate that any human being had ever 
before set foot on this rugged mountain top. Great 
bowlders, covered with tenacious vines and sheltered 


226 


■BOY SCOUTS 


by crooked sinewy branches, lay about in tumbling 
confusion. 

This is a peak, I don’t think ! ” he sneered, and 
brushed the water from his clothing. He came 
to a black pool in which broken twigs lay mo- 
tionless, and there was the pungent odor of rotting 
wood and wet foliage. A few feet away stood a 
tall hemlock which seemed to rear its head out of the 
pandemonium of rock and thicket, into the light of 
day. As he looked about him in the silence of this 
untamed spot, it seemed as if all the materials of 
creation, rock, water, trees, creeping vines, had 
been thrown here in an indiscriminate heap. 

It occurred to him that if he could get to the top 
of this big tree he might obtain an unobstructed 
view of all the country, north, east, south, and west. 
The trunk was large and the lowest branches a good 
distance from the ground, but he noticed that a 
young spruce rose within its spreading radius. He 
hung his hat and khaki coat on a projecting bush, 
wet his finger and made a mystic circle on his fore- 
head for good luck, embraced the spruce, placed 
the wet soles of his sneakers against it, and went 
up like a monkey. Transferring himself to the 
lowest branch of the hemlock, he paused for refresh- 
ment, producing from his trousers pocket a fish- 
line, two sinkers, a jack-knife, an oval pebble, and a 
lead-pencil eraser. An exploration of the opposite 
pocket proved more successful, yielding half a hand- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


227 


ful of shelled nuts. He sat on the bough, dangling 
his legs and eating these. Then up, stepping from 
bough to bough. 

He had not gone far when he was conscious of a 
slight movement on the branch where his foot rested, 
and looking down he saw two little eyes gleaming 
at him out of what looked at first like a knotty pro- 
jection of the wood. He moved his foot, and the 
little animal stirred correspondingly. It was no 
bigger than a cat. 

Gordon was a scout, and he had no wish to harm 
the animal, whatever it was ; but he was also Master 
Gordon Lord, and he was very curious. He let 
himself cautiously down and straddled the branch, 
facing the two eyes. The little creature, fright- 
ened at this move, backed out toward the end of the 
bough and Gordon crept nearer. Presently, they 
were at close quarters, and for a moment his quarry 
seemed undecided what to do. It scanned the tree 
above, then looked to the ground, then backed an- 
other inch or two — as far as it could go. Gor- 
don’s next move decided it. It gave a tremulous 
whine. Instantly there came from below a sort of 
restrained howl, and Gordon saw, climbing up the 
trunk of the tree, a good-sized gray animal with cat- 
like eyes and a little bushy beard under its chin. 
He suspected it was a lynx. 

The boy was about halfway out on the limb, the 
frightened kitten crouching ludicrously on the end, 


228 


BOY SCOUTS 


and its mother, presumably, coming to its rescue. 
Gordon's predicament was not a pleasant one, and 
again the words of Red Deer came jumping into his 
head : Always use your brains iirst; then your hands 
and feet, 

A move in either direction would hasten the ani- 
mal’s ascent. The three participants in the affair 
paused motionless, staring at each other, the large 
animal’s body flattened against the trunk. Then, 
with its cold eyes fixed cautiously on Gordon, it re- 
sumed its climb, growling irritably. Gordon fum- 
bled for his jack-knife and opened it. The lynx 
paused again with its narrow eyes fixed upon him. 
The kitten humped its back and glared in a way that 
would have been amusing if the situation had not 
been dangerous. 

With as little stir as possible, Gordon pulled the 
fish-line out of his pocket, which, being unwound 
and somewhat tangled, brought one or two of his 
precious possessions with it. He distinctly saw his 
lead-pencil eraser strike a branch below and bounce 
off into the pool. Binding the open jack-knife 
against the end of his stick, he had a spear long 
enough, if effectual, to reach below the lowest branch 
and prevent the mother’s gaining a vantage ground 
above. He moved inward, much to the little ani- 
mal’s relief. Growling menacingly, the mother 
stealthily mounted, inch by inch. She was just 
making a quick movement to gain the lowest bough. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


229 


when she encountered the large open blade of Gor- 
don’s jack-knife. Her mouth opened in a hissing 
growl as her paw cautiously felt the end of the stick. 
Then she glided upward and Gordon pricked her 
vigorously. With a howl that woke the forest, she 
crouched back and gave a spring, her fore paws 
clutching the lowest branch. 

By this time the kitten was thoroughly frightened, 
crowding back on the end of the bough and whin- 
ing piteously. This only served to make the mother 
more frantic. Gordon stood on his branch, bracing 
himself against the trunk, and fought back the infu- 
riated creature. And with every prick of his make- 
shift spear, it crouched back and advanced with 
renewed rage. It was a difficult and perilous en- 
counter for the boy, for should he lose his foothold 
or pause but for a second the lynx would gain the 
lowest branch and it would be hopeless to try to 
check it. As long as he could keep it hugging the 
trunk, his chances were good, and this with all his 
might and main he strove to do, manipulating his 
weapon with the greatest dexterity to prevent the 
animal’s getting it between her teeth. Each time 
he withdrew the stick, the beast gained an inch or 
two, retreating with each fresh thrust. Its mouth 
was dripping blood and its paws were stained, but 
it fought with increasing fury, howling in a way to 
strike terror to the boy’s heart. 

The jack-knife began to wobble on the stick, and 


230 


BOY SCOUTS 


presently it fell to the ground. The animal seemed 
to appreciate this advantage to itself, for it straight- 
way made a savage onslaught. Gordon waited till 
its mouth opened wide in a menacing hiss, then 
thrust his stick between its jaws and pushed it vig- 
orously from him. There was a moment’s terrific 
struggle, the stick broke in the middle, and the lynx, 
clutching the end of it, went to the ground. 

Like lightning, Gordon moved out toward the 
little animal and shook the branch desperately. But 
he could not shake it off. The mother was half- 
way up the trunk again, howling and climbing rap- 
idly. There was no time to think. Neither was 
there another small branch which he could quickly 
detach. In his desperate plight he stood above the 
infuriated creature, clutching the tree and kicking 
wildly with one foot. But he wore only sneakers, 
and presently he withdrew his leg, very much the 
worse for the encounter. He had gained time, how- 
ever, to perform the acrobatic feat of tearing off 
his flannel shirt with one hand. Hastily getting a 
match from his hat, he set fire to the shirt and held 
it down above the animal’s head. Singed and howl- 
ing, it backed away from this new weapon. But 
the shirt was presently all aflame and Gordon could 
not hold it. Reaching as far down as he could, he 
dropped it against his enemy’s face. 

Then arose such a howl as he had never heard. 
Backing down the trunk, principally by means of its 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


231 


hind legs, the animal tried to rid itself of the blazing 
garment by its fore paws. The result was that its 
claws caught in it. Presently it bounded from the 
trunk to the ground, freeing itself from the burning 
shreds. Gordon saw that he had but a moment in 
which to act. If he failed now there was no other 
weapon available. 

He moved rapidly out toward the little creature. 
It whined as he approached, and an answering 
whine came from below. The mother, its front 
hair singed, was again on the tree trunk. He feared 
if he went farther the limb would break, but it was 
his only hope, for he could not shake the little crea- 
ture off. So he moved out, the branch crackling 
ominously beneath him, and grabbed it by the nape 
of its neck. It whined piercingly and clung to the 
tree. He wrenched it off just as the lynx had 
reached the same branch. Holding it up so that its 
mother might clearly see what he was doing, he 
threw it into the pool below. At this moment the 
infuriated mother was within five feet of him. 
What she might have done if he had thrown her 
baby to the ground is uncertain. Seeing it in the 
pool, she did not hesitate. With the hatred of wa- 
ter which all the cat tribe possess, she could not trust 
her kitten to its dangers. With a shriek she sprang 
from the bough, and ran excitedly round the pool. 
Then the necessity gave her courage and she swam 
to the little one’s rescue. Dripping with the slimy 


232 


BOY SCOUTS 


water, her head woefully singed and matted with 
blood, Gordon saw her bring the little one to shore 
in her mouth and trot silently off into the thicket. 

“If she had only known, said he, “ that I didn’t 
mean to hurt it.” 

The creature had given him a great scare and 
called forth all the agility and ingenuity that he pos- 
sessed, but now that it was over he felt nothing but 
admiration for his foe. And afterward, when he 
“ recounted the adventure,” he always made a great 
point of its plunging into the pool and coming out, 
dripping and bloody, and trotting off with the kit- 
ten into the forest. 

He had lost all desire to climb the tree, his leg 
was badly scratched, and his nerves on edge. He 
knew that he had come in a southerly direction 
from camp and that he had only to work his way 
northward through the woods to return. And 
though the way was tangled and baffling, he could 
have managed it except for one trifling circum- 
stance. 

He had lost the compass. 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN HOC SIGNO VINCES 

It was now late in the afternoon, and the driz- 
zling rain had stopped; but the sky remained dull, 
and a chill wind was blowing. The sun, which 
might have guided him, had not shown itself all 
day. He tried vainly to find it by holding his knife 
blade vertically on his thumb and twirling it round 
in hopes that it might reveal a faint shadow. He 
might have secured an outlook from the top of the 
hemlock, but his leg was scratched and sore and one 
sneaker torn almost apart. He realized now how 
exhausted he was. For a moment a panic fear 
seized him; then he remembered what Red Deer 
had once told him, in case he should be lost in the 
woods, “ Don’t get rattled — keep your shirt on.” 

‘^But I can’t even do that,” said Gordon. 

He sat down on a bowlder. If I ever hear 
Harry call this a peak again. I’ll — ” Suddenly a 
thought came to him. The wind had not shifted; 
it was still in the east. He stood facing it, holding 
his left arm outstretched, sideways. “ That ought 
to be the north,” said he. Looking where his hand 
pointed, he noticed a small hole in a tree trunk near 
233 


234 


BOY SCOUTS 


him. A worm seemed to be hanging out of it, but 
as he approached it gave a sudden whisk and disap- 
peared. It was no worm, but a mouse’s tail, and he 
recollected with great elation (for he seldom for- 
got anything) that a field-mouse almost always 
dwells on the south side of a tree. So, with the 
wind and the mouse-hole agreeing as to the compass 
points, Gordon started north. 

He believed that camp was a mile and a half or 
two miles distant, and he sorely regretted now that 
he had not blazed the way for his return. But 
he went straight ahead, as he thought, pushing 
through the underbrush until he found himself in 
comparatively open land. There was no outlook 
here, and he was too stiff to climb a tree. Never- 
theless he fancied that one or two objects were fa- 
miliar, and was convinced that he was heading 
directly for camp. 

Wet, shivering, sore, and tired, he plodded on. 
When he believed he was within call, he shouted, 
but there was no answer. He would give another 
shout a little farther on. Presently he came to a 
thicket, and in a few moments stood, limp and 
weary, staring about him in amazement, in the very 
spot of his fight with the lynx. There was the 
hemlock. There was the pool. 

Very much discouraged, he sat down to rest, 
kicked off his battered sneaker, which was of no 
further use, and took a long “think.” He knew 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


235 

that he had done what people lost in the woods are 
almost sure to do — walked in a large circle. 

“ That’s a funny thing when you come to think 
of it/’ he said ; ‘‘ we must be built lopsided.” 

As he tugged his rebellious stocking into place, 
another idea came to him. Well he recollected one 
evening when Red Deer (in his civilized role of Dr. 
Brent) had sat on the porch talking with Mr. Lord. 
He, Gordon, had sat in the background catching and 
retaining ever)^hing like a sponge. He remem- 
bered Dr. Brent’s telling his father an interesting 
theory to account for this tendency of people to walk 
in a circle. The theory was that the heart, beating 
on the left side, throws extra strength and activity 
into the left leg, so that one unconsciously edges 
to the right. “ Now,” thought Gordon, ‘‘ if I just 
limp a little more on my sore leg, that ought to 
straighten things out.” 

So, when he had rested, he started north again, 
resolving to keep this mischievous inclination of the 
heart in mind and counteract it by limping uniformly 
with his left leg. That his limping very nicely bal- 
anced the extra strength was demonstrated (to his 
own complete satisfaction, at least) when an hour 
later, shoeless and shirtless, but with a radiant smile, 
he limped into camp just as Harry was beginning 
to think of going in search of him. 

“ Harry, I don’t have to limp as bad as this, but 
Fve made a wonderful discovery.” 


236 


BOY SCOUTS 


“Where’s your shirt?” 

“Wait till you hear — I’ve had a great adven- 
ture! You know we’re all lopsided, Harry, on ac- 
count of our hearts; we’re not built true, and I’ve 
thought of a way — ” 

“ All right, come in here and get dressed. Lucky 
you’ve got another shirt and a pair of sneakers. 
What have you been into now, you little son of 
trouble ? ” 

“ Shall I begin at the beginning, Harry ? ” 

“Certainly! Let’s hear it all.” 

So Gordon recounted his adventure with his won- 
derful discovery as a climax, and Harry listened 
with a dry smile. “ Guess it was a lynx, all right,” 
he said. 

After supper Harry displayed an elaborate draw- 
ing of a model aeroplane which he had made on the 
inside cover of his book. Ever since he had left 
Mr. Danforth’s hospitable roof, his thoughts had 
run somewhat on Penfield and his model. The re- 
sult of his studying the diagram was that he had 
written Penfield a letter on the fly leaves of the book 
and stuffed it in his pocket to mail as soon as he 
should strike a post-office. It read : 

'Dear Pen: — 

Be sure to soak your clockwork in kerosene oil. 
If you can’t hit on any whalebone, get an old um- 
brella and use the ribs. The silk will make good 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


23/ 


covering, too. Drop a glass bead on your propeller 
axle — it will do for hall bearing. Put some vas- 
eline on it. Be sure to have your covering hang a 
little over the back of the planes to hold the air a 
second, and I think the cover of a fountain pen 
would do better than a gas tip to hold your sticks 
together — ifs lighter. Hairpins are handy, too. 
Maybe you^ve got one of those bamboo porch 
screens that pull up and down. The strips would be 
great if youWe making a curved plane. If your 
sisters have any old hats with dowers on them, 
you'll dnd good thin wire inside the stems. Peel 
the green stud off. The wire would be just the 
thing for binding your frame corners, too. Don't 
get discouraged. We've got them beaten already. 
Only don't be too reckless with your glue, and have 
plenty of oil on your cog chain. And don't have 
your propeller go too fast — it only cuts a hole in 
the air. If you could get hold of one of those lit- 
tle hoops ladies embroider on, you could cut it in 
half and you'd have good rudder frames. If you 
need strong spring wire, the sides of a pair of spec- 
tacles zvould be just the thing. You might dnd 
some good stuff in a willow chair. Be sure not to 
have any dat surfaces against the air. 

We'll try to see you before we go home. We're 
up on Bulwagga Mountain now — still hunting. 
Hope to get a clue this afternoon or night. 

Your friend, Harry Arnold. 


238 


BOY SCOUTS 


P. S. — If you can^t get hold of a lady's hat, 
maybe Miss Crosby, over at Buck Mansion, can fix 
you up. Tell her I deduced that she has a few. 
Gordon had a fight with a lynx — how's that? 
Lost his shirt and gained an adventure. 

The night continued cloudy, and the boys had no 
alternative but to turn in again with neither infor- 
mation nor clue. And this was especially unfor- 
tunate since the moon was rising later each evening 
and soon all hope of night searching would have 
to be abandoned. 

“ Kid,’" said Harry, I don't think they'd have 
gone north of this — I can't get that woods down 
there out of my mind. But we could never follow 
the stream down, old boy, not with your leg as it is. 
It means more climbing than walking. It looks to 
me as if the stream would be a series of waterfalls. 
Then I wouldn't dare go far from it without a com- 
pass." 

“ Harry, now don't spoil it all, whatever you do. 
I won't vote for sending up a signal — there's no 
use asking me. We're going to find them. And 
everything is going fine. Gracious, I was scared 
when I lost that compass, but now I know it's the 
regular thing to do, Harry. Now, there was a fel- 
low they called the Black Ranger, and he did the 
same thing, and it said that without food or compass 
and limping from his wound, he pressed on with 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


239 


dauntless courage. And weVe even got the limp, 
Harry — if it don’t go and get well before we find 
them. We ought not to find them, Harry, till we 
are well-nigh exhausted.” 

‘‘How’s that?” 

“We ought to drag ourselves, weary but trium- 
phant, into camp.” 

“ Hmmm,” said Harry. 

He lay awake long, thinking. They might kindle 
a large signal fire on the mountain, but that, if it 
were seen, would lessen the triumph of finding the 
camp. It would be, in a way, calling for assistance, 
and he did not like the idea any more than Gordon 
did. 

The morning dawned dull and cloudy; it bade 
fair to be a repetition of the previous day. Gor- 
don slept long, and when he awoke he found the 
shelter empty save for himself. While he was pull- 
ing on his things, Harry came in, his mood wholly 
out of keeping with the weather. 

“ Hello there, Kiddo ! Here are some minnows 
for breakfast.” 

“ Hello ! I guess we won’t see any sign of camp- 
fire to-night. Doesn’t this weather beat all ! ” 

“Don’t grumble about the weather now. This 
is just the day to do my sewing. I’ve got to patch 
up your stocking and fix you up generally, so that if 
you should meet any maidens you’ll be in shape to 
recount your adventures.” 


240 


BOY SCOUTS 


What’ll be our next move, Harry ? ” 

Our next move will be to explore that woods 
down there. That’s the likeliest place for camp 
that they could strike in this vicinity, it seems to me. 
It’s between the two forts, it’s flat woodland, and 
it’s got a stream ’'unning through it — this stream 
that begins up here. So I think we’d better get 
right down there and not waste any more time up 
here.” 

‘‘ But when we get down on the mountain side, 
Harry, we won’t be able to see where we’re go- 
ing.” 

‘‘ We’re going down just the way we came up,” 
said Harry, and strike into the Port Henry Road. 
I think we’ll hit a road that goes around the 
northern end of this old mountain and skirts the 
shore, and we’ll follow that along till we strike 
the stream in level country. If they’re down there 
at all, they’re near the stream — you can be sure 
of that; and we’ll follow along the stream to the 
lake. I shouldn’t be in the least surprised if we 
found them.” 

But if we don’t?” 

Then we’ll go on to Port Henry, and I’ll buy 
a regular spyglass there if they have such a thing 
— and on to Bald Knob. — And if the collar but- 
ton’s under the bed, we’ll find it, or break our necks 
in the attempt ! ” 

‘‘ Or drop in our tracks is better, Harry.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


241 


‘‘ Well, we’ll do that, then. So now for min- 
nows and coffee and — do you want bacon ? ” 

‘‘ Surely.” 

Bacon it is, and then the sewing circle. Dump 
that spool of thread out of the coffee pot, will you? 
Kid, you’re a horrible sight! You look as if you’d 
been through a sawmill.” 

By ten o’clock they were picking their way down 
the western slope toward the Port Henry road. It 
is probably the easiest descent from the southern 
peak, but it was difficult for all that. Noontime 
found them again in open country, trudging along 
the road toward the little village of Port Henry, 
which is on the lake shore about three miles north 
of the mountain. Instinctively, each took a side of 
the road, watching it closely as they went along. 
Now and then Harry would pause to examine a 
trampled spot near the roadside. Every suspicious 
stone was carefully scrutinized, then kicked aside 
for any secret it might be hiding. Usually their 
inspection was only casual, and they discovered 
nothing which justified them in pausing. Foot- 
prints were out of the question considering the 
length of time which had elapsed and the rain which 
had fallen. Every time Harry paused, Gordon 
looked expectantly over and asked, “ What did you 
strike? ” and Harry would answer, ‘‘ Nothing.” 

They had almost reached the crossroad when 
Harry stooped to examine a little hole in the ground. 


242 


BOY SCOUTS 


no larger in circumference than a broom stick. He 
stuck a twig into the hole, finding that it was about 
six inches deep. 

“Locust hole?” asked Gordon, going over. 

“ Don’t think so,” Harry answered, pulling the 
grass carefully away from it. “ It’s octagon-shaped, 
isn’t it? Let’s have a match.” He held the match 
down. “ Humph, seems to go to a point, doesn’t 
it?” 

They stood looking at each other. 

“ Morrel has an octagon-shaped staff, hasn’t he. 
Kid!” 

Gordon’s face was an ample substitute for the 
recreant sun. 

“We’ve found them! We’ve found them, 
Harry ! ” he shouted. 

“ Let’s sit down and think,” said Harry, quietly. 
“Kid, that crossroad ahead there would take us 
round under the mountain, under the precipice, and 
so into the woods below.” 

“ Harry, we’re on their trail ! ” 

“ You don’t call a hole in the ground a trail, do 
you ? This is nothing but a poor, weak, sickly little 
apology for a clue. So don’t go up in the air. In 
the first place, has Morrel an octagon staff, or 
hasn’t he ? ” 

“He has, Harry.” 

“ All right, now you’re talking. Evidently they 
stopped and talked here. That stick must have 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


243 


been stuck down pretty well into the ground to leave 
a hole that would stay there after the rain we’ve 
had in the last couple of days. But if they knew 
they wanted to get into that woods, why didn’t they 
come up the shore? What were they doing away 
in here west of the mountain? Let’s take a look at 
that road for a little way.” 

They could see by the map that the crossroad 
skirted the northern slope of the mountain and ran 
along the bay shore, under the precipitous east wall, 
and thence into the woods. But surely if the Oak- 
wood troop had come up from Ticonderoga know- 
ing their destination, they would have taken an- 
other and easier way to reach it. 

With their inspection of the crossroad, the weak, 
sickly little clue grew to robust proportions. 

“ Here’s where Mac got hungry. Kid,” Harry 
commented, kicking a piece of silver paper. Let’s 
see, now, if we can make anything out of all this.” 
He looked smilingly round. 

Meanwhile, Gordon’s observant eye had discov- 
ered something which gladdened his heart, — a true, 
out-and-out scout sign. A little way down the 
crossroad, along the right-hand side, a small square 
was scratched with stone on a rock, with an arrow 
pointing from one of its sides. It did not take 
Gordon long to take three paces from this stone in 
the direction of the arrow. 

‘‘Let’s have your ax, Harry.” 


'244 


BOY SCOUTS 


In a minute more, both boys were sitting by the 
roadside poring over a few words written on a piece 
of paper, which puzzled them more than they helped, 
however. It simply said, in what appeared to be a 
hasty scrawl: 

‘‘If any of you come back this way, follow blaz- 
ing.’’ 

“// any of them come back this way/' repeated 
Harry. “ What in the dickens have they done — 
separated ? ” In a moment the answer came to him. 
“ Kid,” he said, “ I may be all wrong, but I have 
an idea that some of them went on into Port Henry 
to hire boats. That’s why they were up as far as 
this. Probably they couldn’t find half a dozen 
canoes and dories farther down. Here’s where 
they separated. Some went on, and the rest stayed 
here — you can see they loafed around here — look 
at the chocolate wrapper. Mac can’t sit down a 
minute without eating — he’ll weigh a ton if he 
keeps on. Maybe the fellows that went on expected 
to make arrangements for boats and perhaps come 
down the lake in them. Anyway, the boys that 
waited here probably thought that some of them 
might come back along this road expecting to find 
them, so when they decided to go on they left this. 
I can’t make it out — they’ve been here, that’s sure, 
and they’ve blazed a way off this road down a ways. 
Come on ! ” 

They started down the road, watching carefully 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


245 

for any signs. Gordon was almost too excited to 
speak. 

‘^Oh, Harry, won’t it be great when we find 
them I What’ll we say ? ” 

They came to a blazed tree and turned into the 
woods. Other trees were blazed at intervals of a 
few yards, leading deeper and deeper into the forest. 
They were now shut off from any outlook and did 
not know in what direction they were traveling ; but 
they followed the blazing, and before long the lake 
showed in silvery patches through the trees. 

‘‘Harry,” said Gordon, stopping, “let’s decide 
how we’ll act. I say, let’s just walk in as if noth- 
ing had happened and sit down. When they ask 
us questions we’ll just answer kind of careless, and 
stretch ourselves, you know, as if we didn’t want 
to be bothered. I’ve been thinking, Harry, and I 
believe that’ll be better than dragging ourselves into 
camp, hungry and exhausted, but with dauntless 
courage. You see, the trouble is, Harry, there’s 
really enough food left in our packs for several 
days more. By rights we ought not to find them 
till about three days after our — what is it they call 
food, Harry?” 

“ Grub? ” suggested Harry. 

“ No — means of something or other — ” 

“ Means of sustenance ? ” 

“ That’s it, Harry, — till our means of sustenance 
is exhausted. Then again, Harry, I don’t really 


246 


[BOY SCOUTS 


look so very bad — I mean I don’t look bad 
enough.^* 

“ You look very dressy, Kid.” 

‘‘ Now, keep quiet about that, Harry. I mean I 
don’t look as if the bleak wind had penetrated to 
my very — ” 

‘‘ You look as if you needed a pair of stockings,” 
said Harry. “We’ll have to get some in Port 
Henry. You’ve got an extra pair, but you ought 
to have two good pairs in case we should happen to 
go — 

“ Ha! What did I tell you? Didn’t I say you’d 
be going there again? And now you want to use 
me for a scapegrace ! ” 

“A what?” 

“ Well, you know what it is when you want to do 
a thing and lay the whole blame on somebody else.” 

“ Oh, that’s a scapegoat.” 

They had walked on and now reached a spot 
where they stopped short. It was within a few 
yards of the shore. Before them was a large 
charred spot, covered with ashes. A rough pole 
rested horizontally between two saplings. A stream 
flowed into the lake near by. The ground was 
trampled, and they could plainly see stake holes. 
Clearly, there had been a camp here. 

Both boys stood silent, contemplating the deserted 
spot. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


247 


Well, what — do — you — think — of — ^that ! ” 
said Gordon. 

“ Kid/' said Harry, after a minute, ‘‘ this is where 
we saw the smoke from Dibble Mountain — just 
about where I thought. We didn’t see it from Bul- 
wagga that first night because it wasn’t here.” 

‘‘ Correct ; be seated, Master Arnold.” 

“ What do you say. Kid ? ” 

“ I have only one thing to say, Harry. We have 
been handed a large and juicy lemon.” 

Let’s go down and look around the shore.” 

The shore was sloping in one place — an ideal 
spot for hauling up canoes; but no sign was there, 
not the slightest ruffle in the sand, to indicate that 
any boats had been there. 

“ Maybe they went back the way they came, 
Harry.” 

Harry paid no heed to this remark, but walked 
about the shore, stooping now and then, examining 
it closely. He walked along the stream to its near- 
est point to the deserted camp, but found nothing. 
Gordon sat on a large rock by the shore, watching 
him. 

‘‘ Harry, you look like an Uncle Tom’s Cabin 
bloodhound.” 

Harry, meanwhile, had taken a stick and prodded 
it into the water under the rock. “ Pretty deep, 
eh ? ” he said. Then he felt of the rock by Gordon’s 


248 


BOY SCOUTS 


side. His finger rested on what appeared to be a 
wet spot, but it was perfectly dry. He leaned down 
and smelled of it. ‘‘ Take a whiff of that. Kid.” 

Gordon smelled it. ‘‘You can’t prove anything 
by me, Harry.” 

Harry vaulted on to the rock and sat by Gordon’s 
side. “ You’d better read up what your old col- 
lege chum. General Baden-Powell, has to say about 
smelling clues, my son, — that’s a grease spot.” 

“ Maybe somebody laid a frankfurter there,” sug- 
gested Gordon. 

“ More likely it was an oily rag out of a motor- 
boat. Now, kindly keep your seats, ladies and gen- 
tlemen; the show is not over.” 

But Gordon, heedless, had taken a flying leap, 
and was sniffing the spot with inquisitive enthusi- 
asm. 

“ I smell it ! I smell it ! ” said he. “ Oh, Harry, 
I smell it! It’s gasoline! Eureka! Excelsior! or 
whatever they call it ! ” 

“ I think not,” said Harry, quietly. “ It was a 
wipe rag. Probably the engine went on strike — as 
it naturally would if Walden monkeyed with it. I 
never thought Walden’s bungling would be any use, 
but I believe he’s done us a good turn here. Let 
this be a lesson to you, my son, never to smoke 
cigarettes.” 

“ Harry,” said Gordon, dramatically, “ I never 
shall. But kindly tell me what that’s got to do with 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


249 

a motor-boat — or with Walden, either — he 
doesn’t smoke.” 

“ No, nor any other scout. And you show me a 
fellow that smells an oil stain in the open air after 
two days of rain, and Til deduce for you whether 
he smokes cigarettes or not. You can take that 
little sermon from your patrol leader, and if you 
don’t believe me, ask Red Deer.” 

“ If I ever see him again. Professor Arnold.” 

“ You’ll see him again, all right,” said Harry, ex- 
amining the grease spot. “ Do you understand 
Latin?” 

I can tell if there’s any quinine in a prescription, 
Harry.” 

‘‘ Well, listen to this : In hoc signo vincesl^ 

** Harry, don^t tell me they’re in hock ! ” 

No, some one came down here in a motor-boat, 
got the rest, and went chugging back again.” 

‘'You’re a perfect ghoul ! cried Gordon, mim- 
icking Miss Crosby. “You’ve picked up a loose 
chug — you know you have ! It’s just wonderful! ” 

“ Do you want to know what In hoc signo vinces 
means, you little monkey ? ” 

“ I shall never be happy till I find out.” 

“ Well, then,” said Harry, pointing to the grease 
spot, “ it means. By this sign thou wilt conquer.” 

“ But I don’t see how you know they went off in 
the motor-boat, Harry. Even supposing there was 
a motor-boat here, there’s nothing to show the fel- 


250 


BOY SCOUTS 


lows went off in her. It might have been just some- 
body that stopped here to visit the camp.” 

“Well,” said Harry, “they didn’t go back the 
way they came, that’s sure. They’d never have left 
that note under the rock if they’d gone right back 
past it. There’s no other road leading away from 
here, and I don’t believe they’d have struck right 
across country. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t fol- 
low the railroad track either, so there’s nothing left 
but the motor-boat. We shall now count the rail- 
road ties from here to Port Henry.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


AT THE FINISH LINE 

“Now weVe got something to go on,” said 
Harry, as they walked along the road that skirts the 
shore. 

“ You mean, they^ve got something to go on, if 
your idea is right,” Gordon corrected. “ Think the 
sun’s coming out, Harry.” 

The belated sun was indeed breaking through the 
clouds. Harry saw from his map that there was 
but one stream emptying into the lake between them 
and Port Henry, and on reaching this they found 
that it was not suitable for even a motor-dory. 

They had no intention of making inquiries in the 
village, their plan being now to go up the lake shore 
till they found a boat, or boats, moored, or streams 
to explore. They would march straight through the 
village as if they did not know it was there. 

“ I understand we’re not to recognize Port Henry, 
Kid?” 

“ We’ll snub it, Harry. We don’t want to get 
any directions at the last minute.” 

But Port Henry had something to say about this. 
She was not in the habit of having people pass by 
2 $^ 


252 


BOY SCOUTS 


without acknowledging her, and just at this partic- 
ular time she was putting on her holiday clothes. 
She always makes a great splurge in the summer, 
and in the winter rolls herself up like a bear and 
goes to sleep. 

It was well on in the afternoon when Harry and 
Gordon came in sight of the town and decided to 
pitch their shelter in a little grove till morning. For 
Gordon was too weary to go farther. As night 
came on, they could see the lights of the village in 
the distance, and they busied themselves speculating 
what the morrow might bring forth. 

Harry looked at Gordon critically. ** Do you feel 
you need some meat, old man? How are you, 
weak ? ’’ 

No. Just tired. Fm going to turn in early.’' 
ril try for a rabbit if you say. Kid, but I’d 
rather not. If you’re weak, just say so, and I’ll 
find you something hearty.” 

‘‘ Bacon and cereal will do for me, Harry.” 

“ All right, then. Sit where you are — I’m go- 
ing to learn that trick of yours, making a fire. 
Here, get under the shelter and stuff these cushions 
back of you. You’re all in, old man; take it easy 
now.” 

‘‘ Harry, this may be the last supper you and I’ll 
have together.” 

“ Like enough, if we're lucky.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


253 


To-morrow’s the Fourth of July.” 

‘‘ So it is!” 

‘‘ I kind of wish we’d have a few days more of it, 
Harry.” 

“ Why ? Suppose you open up that egg powder 

— sit still now.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” said Gordon ; ‘‘I — I — 
kind of like being alone with you, Harry.” 

‘‘ Same with me, Kid.” 

‘‘ I hope you’ll never move away from Oak wood, 
Harry.” 

‘‘ Not much danger of that ; our house was built by 
my grandfather. Look here. Kid, I know what’s 
the matter with you — you’re just dead tired.” 

‘‘ Your father might put up a new house some- 
where else, like Mr. Danforth.” 

No sirree ! We all think too much of the old 
shack ; and anyway, if he did, there’d be a room for 
the Black Ranger, all right, no matter where it was. 
We’d think of a way, Kiddo.” 

‘‘ I don’t know how it is, Harry, I seem to learn 
things from you without your teaching them to me 

— I just learn them.” 

‘‘ Nonsense ! ” 

Don’t you think one fellow can learn better from 
another than from some one else ? I mean, Harry, 
if you think a whole lot of a fel — a person, why, 
you’d learn more from him than — Now, I’ll never 


254 


BOY SCOUTS 


smoke a cigarette after what you said, Harry, and 
it wasn’t like a lesson at all.” 

“ Guess you’ll never learn much from me, old 
man — Hand me the saucepan, will you ? ” 

‘‘ My father thinks I will — and anyway, I’m glad 
I’m in your patrol.” 

Well, the patrol wouldn’t part with G. Lord 
for a seagoing yacht.” 

Just the same. I’d like to be alone with you a lit- 
tle longer, Harry, honest, I would. — I heard Red 
Deer tell my father how important it is in camping 
to find pure water. He said fellows about the age 
of the older ones in our troop are liable to typhoid 
fever. I hope you’ll never get that, Harry.” 

Kid, you’re a great old boy.” 

Let’s feel your muscle, will you, Harry ? ” 
Harry went over, smiling, and bent his arm 
slowly back and forth. 

‘‘ My, you wouldn’t think a fellow as thin as you 
would have a muscle like that, Harry.” 

Harry laughed outright, and doubling his fist, 
thrust it gently into the younger boy’s upturned face. 

The next morning they went into Port Henry, 
and found the village in gala attire. It was their 
purpose to hire a canoe, and continue their explora- 
tions along the shore and up the smaller streams. 
This would be easier than mountain-climbing (of 
which Harry thought Gordon had had enough), and 
since there was now some reason to expect to find 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


255 

camp along the shore, a little paddling about, as 
Harry said, would not go half bad. 

Port Henry's dressed up as if she was going to 
graduate, — hey. Kid ? ” 

She certainly has her pink sash on. I wonder 
what's up." 

The town was resplendent in bunting festoons and 
streamers, and every store and house had its flag. 
The national emblem, of course, predominated, but 
here and there hung a triangular, purple flag show- 
ing the letters M B C in white, with an anchor be- 
neath. 

Most of the stores were closed, and there was a 
general air of holiday festivity among the little 
groups that talked excitedly here and there. The 
city people were in festive array. Tennis-shirted 
and sneaker-shod young gentlemen lolled about. 

‘‘ Cracky ! " said Gk)rdon, ‘‘ the shoe business must 
be good here." 

Yes," Harry answered. “ I don’t suppose there 
was ever a shoe box but was doomed to carry sand- 
wiches sometime or other. There are a lot of folks 
here from out of town." 

Presently they were reading a big poster in one 
of the windows : 


256 


BOY SCOUTS 


REGATTA 
MOHAWK BOAT CLUB 
JULY FOURTH 


WATER EVENTS AT 2 P. M. SHARP 
ROWING 
SWIMMING 
SAILING 

MUSIC BY PORT HENRY BAND 
FIREWORKS IN EVENING 

BASEBALL! BASEBALL! 

PORT HENRY VS. PLATTSBURGH 

SPECIAL 

GOODWIN, THE DARING AVIATOR, WILL 
FLY IN HIS AIRSHIP TO VERMONT 

AND BACK, ALIGHTING ON THE GREEN 

Looks as if there were going to be some do- 
ings,” said Harry. 

‘‘ Not much chance of getting hold of a canoe to- 
day, Fm afraid,” commented Gordon. 

They sauntered up the main street, and could not 
fail to notice that several people turned and stared 
at them. Harry thought it was because of their 
rather battered and disheveled appearance. As they 
passed the post-office, a little crowd of city fellows 
called tauntingly after them. 

‘‘ There’s a couple of them, now,” said one. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


257 


** Hurrah for the Boy Spouts ! ” another shouted. 

Sh-h-h ! ’’ said another. “ They’re on the trail 
of a deer — don’t disturb them ! ” 

Gordon glanced back, laughing cheerfully at his 
own expense, and noticed that one of the fellows 
had a flag with the words WELDEN SCHOOL on 
it, and that several others wore pale blue sweaters 
bearing a W on the chest. 

Them chaps is goin’ to win the regetty,” volun- 
teered a black-coated man near by, who looked 
pathetically uncomfortable in his gala attire. 

They’re champion experts.” 

‘‘ Bully for them,” said Harry, cheerily. 

Presently, as they passed a pleasant cottage, a 
woman with a battalion of small children turned in 
at the gate. 

‘‘ Give me the key,” they heard her say to one of 
the boys. 

“ I haven’t got it.” 

Who has?” 

It appeared that none of them had. 

Well,” said the woman, in despair, ‘‘ we’re 
locked out, then. I told you to put the key in your 
pocket.” 

So I did.” 

Well, where is it, then?” 

You told me I could leave off my jacket — it’s 
in my jacket pocket.” 

The woman stood frowning. 

Could we do anything to help you?” said 


258 


BOY SCOUTS 


Harry, vaulting the low fence and standing, hat in 
hand, before her. Gordon followed and stood be- 
side him. 

I’m afraid not,” said she. ‘‘ We’re locked out ; 
it’s most exasperating. John, you’ll have to run 
straight down to Mr. Berry’s and tell him to come 
right up.” 

‘‘ Just wait a minute, please,” said Harry. 

Maybe we can think of some way to get in. All 
the windows are locked, I suppose?” He stepped 
out a little and saw that a window above the door- 
way was open. From its sill a flagpole projected. 

‘‘ You can never get in there,” said the woman. 

Is that a hammock hook on that tree ? ” Harry 
asked. 

‘‘ Yes.” 

“ The hammock doesn’t happen to be outdoors 
anywhere, does it ? ” 

The hammock was found to be behind the house, 
and Harry carried it to the front doorway. The 
hammock itself, together with its two ropes, formed 
a line perhaps twelve feet long, which was easily 
thrown over the inner end of the pole. In a moment 
Harry had swung himself up to the flagpole and 
reaching down from it was carefully brushing off 
the dust which his feet had left on the flag. The 
woman watched him with an amused smile. 

“ That’s one of the first things we scouts have to 
learn,” Gordon told her, — ‘Tespect for the flag.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


259 

Presently Harry opened the front door. The 
woman was very profuse in her thanks. 

‘‘ There’s nothing to thank me for,” said Harry. 
‘‘You know, I used to be a burglar,” h^ added, 
laughing. 

“ But you must come in,” she said. “ I’m sure 
you’re strangers. “ What can I do to repay you ? ” 

She insisted upon their following her into the cozy 
little sitting-room. “ It was nothing at all,” Harry 
said. “ But if we might ask a favor, perhaps you’d 
be willing to let us clean up a bit here. My friend 
— well. I’m really ashamed of him — the fact is, 
we’ve been mountaineering.” 

Might they? Indeed they might! And they 
must also stay and have some lunch. No, she 
would hear of nothing else. 

It is a scout’s duty to be polite and not to gainsay 
a lady, so they — well, they stayed, in obedience to 
Section 5, Scout Law. 

When they thanked her and started forth from 
her hospitable roof, they were quite presentable. 
She had insisted upon sewing several buttons on 
Gordon’s uniform, all of which he had unearthed 
from various pockets, and after a sponging process, 
he came forth glowing and immaculate. 

They had also learned something regarding the 
day’s program. Four rowing crews were entered 
for a contest, — Plattsburgh, Port Henry, and a crew 
of boys from the Welden School who were summer- 


26 o 


BOY SCOUTS 


ing at Port Henry. The Welden School was some- 
where over in Vermont, or Massachusetts, she 
thought. Then there was also another crew “ from 
down lake somewheres,’’ but she guessed the Welden 
boys would have things their own way. She didn^t 
care much who won ‘‘ s’long’s nobody got drowned.’’ 

The boys thanked her again and started for the 
seat of war. They found both shores lined with 
people as far down as they could see. Harry had 
hoped to get a glimpse of the racing craft and size 
up the contesting crews, but the dense throng sur- 
rounding the boat-house and float made this impos- 
sible. 

“ Come on,” said he, there’s nothing doing here. 
Let’s get down to the finish. I don’t believe they’ll 
pull more than a mile.” 

They started down the road which skirted the 
shore, working their way through a labyrinth of 
buckboards and three-seated stages and throngs of 
spectators. Overhead, the sky was cloudless, and 
the sun poured hotly down upon an army of para- 
sols. Out in the lake it touched the still water with 
gold, and here a little motor-dory, flying the boat- 
club’s colors, chugged about, warning encroaching 
canoes off the course. It seemed to be a thankless 
task, for as fast as one was driven back another 
darted forward, until the busy, important little boat 
reminded one of the old woman who lived in a shoe. 
Down at the finish, the throng expanded into a 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


261 

seething mass. So close together were canoes and 
dories that they seemed to form a solid float. On 
the shore, carriages and autos were drawn up. The 
whole countryside had turned out in holiday attire. 

Through this dense mass the boys managed, by 
a series of maneuvers, to reach the shore, and soon 
stood at a point where they had an open view up the 
river. The little official boat came chugging down 
past them, and boldly essayed the task of ordering a 
handsome steam yacht to get beyond the finish line. 

‘‘ WeTe not on the course,’’ shouted its captain. 

Yes, you are, sir,” answered the official bouncer; 

you’ll have to get downstream.” 

The boys listened to this dispute, which was 
within a few feet of them, with a good deal of 
curiosity, for there is nothing so interesting as an 
altercation in a public place, when suddenly there 
was a frantic waving from the deck of the yacht. 

Why, there’s Miss Crosby ! ” exclaimed Gordon. 

They waved their caps to her, and she suddenly 
disappeared. Evidently, she had issued her orders, 
for the yacht, in utter defiance of rules and regula- 
tions, was brought alongside a neighboring pier, and 
the crowd, no doubt much impressed with its gor- 
geous appearance, for it was a glittering combina- 
tion of white and brass, opened to let the two boys 
pass down and go aboard. 

“ The idea! ” said Miss Crosby, as she greeted 
them. I never knew such downright tyranny! 


262 


BOY SCOUTS 


That’s the only thing to call it ! They seem to think 
they own the lake ! ” 

‘‘ Tm afraid it looks as if we thought that,” said 
a genial voice, and the boys turned in surprise to see 
Mr. Dan forth coming toward them with out- 
stretched hand. “But we couldn’t pass right by 
you. Miss Crosby said — ” 

“ Oh, I never said anything of the kind ! ” 

“ He probably just deduced it,” laughed Harry, 
“ whatever it was.” 

Mr. Danforth chuckled; he had evidently heard 
about their “ deducing.” “Well,” said he, cheerily, 
“ who’s going to win the race ? ” 

** We don’t even know the program,” said Harry. 
“We just dropped into town.” 

“Still hunting?” laughed Mr. Danforth. 

“ Still hunting,” said Harry. 

“ Well, well, you must take an afternoon off and 
explain the events to us; we’ve been hearing more 
about you from this young lady.” The young lady 
gave him a very severe scowl, but it did not deter 
him in the least. “ She’s been very much interested 
in your trip, and we’ve been comparing notes about 
you. Now, here we are, met again, all hands 
around St. Paul’s, as you might say. By Jove, I’m 
sorry Pen isn’t here! Come aft and let me intro- 
duce you to our little party.” 

The yacht had now steamed out of forbidden ter- 
ritory. Mr. Danforth led the boys to an awning- 


# 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


263 


covered stretch of deck, strewn with oriental rugs 
and comfortable wicker chairs. The party con- 
sisted of Mr. and Mrs. Danforth and their daugh- 
ters, Miss Antoinette and her mother, and a couple 
of gentlemen from the city. 

“ Well, now,” said their host, I don't believe Til 
have the courage to tell Pen we saw you. You’ll 
have to go home with us — that’s the only way.” 

‘‘ Mr. Danforth was just saying,” his wife con- 
tinued, that he wouldn’t dare tell Pen there was 
an aeroplane flight ; but, I declare, I believe he’ll be 
even more disappointed at not seeing you.” 

‘‘ Well, probably there won’t be any flight,” said 
one of the gentlemen; there usually isn’t.” 

‘‘That’s so,” said Mr. Danforth; “the weather 
clerk finds it pretty hard to suit an aviator. Now 
there isn’t a breath stirring to-day, and the sailing 
race is off on account of the calm; but you just wait 
and see if this fellow doesn’t come out with the 
statement that there’s too much wind.” 

“ Well,” said the other gentleman, “ as I under- 
stand it, an aviator sometimes means the air above 
— some distance up. They say the air is always in 
more rapid circulation up a ways. And then, there 
are what they call pockets of air — sometimes it’s 
full of those things up above when it’s calm down 
here.” 

“ Something like Gordon’s pockets, here, I sup- 
pose,” interpolated Harry ; “ full of all sorts of 


264 


BOY SCOUTS 


junk — gusts of wind, odds and ends of squalls, and 
things like that. I suppose those things would play 
the mischief with an aeroplane. I don't know much 
about the subject myself." 

‘‘ He does, too," said Gordon. 

'' Kind of atmospheric spasms," said Mr. Dan- 
forth. 

“ Something like that," answered his friend. 
“ There’s a kind of little fan they shoot up in the air 
which will often give them an idea how things are 
up there — they’ve got to be careful." 

“No life-saving stations up there," laughed Mr. 
Dan forth. “ Well, I just wish you could see Pen’s 
new model, Harry. The motor actually does go for 
nearly a minute. It’s the most ingenious thing I 
ever saw. By Jove, if the little fellow doesn’t win 
that contest, I believe it’ll kill him! He’s just 
counting the days till we get to Oakwood." 

The conversation was interrupted by the muffled 
sound of cheering along the shore. The yacht was 
brought around so that the deck aft commanded a 
vista of smooth water, reflecting in long perspective 
its bordering rows of waiting spectators, and the 
party had an unobstructed view up the course. Far 
up the shore, flags and caps were waving, showing 
that the first heat had begun. 

The judge’s launch chugged around under the 
yacht’s stern and out into midstream. The patrol 
boat, with a great deal of racket, made a final cruise. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


265 


driving back unruly canoes and punts. Neighbor- 
ing boats which gloried in the possession of whistles, 
began tooting them. There was a general bustle of 
suspense and expectation. The cheering up the 
course rolled nearer like a wave. A gay little dory, 
containing a dozen fellows in pale blue sweaters, 
who were shouting a club or school yell, shot across 
the course, in laughing defiance of the judge, and 
took an advantageous position. 

‘‘ Hurrah for Welden ! ” shouted some one. 

“ Those boys are going to win in a walk,” called 
a voice under the yacht’s rail. “ They’re college 
trained.” 

Far up the course, two slender craft shot into 
view. Harry took the glass from Mr. Dan forth 
and saw that one of them was leading by more than 
a length. As they neared, the space between them 
steadily increased. He handed the glass to Miss 
Crosby. ‘‘ The crew on the left are rowing ragged,” 
he told her. 

‘‘ They may catch up,” she said excitedly. Just 
see how they splash ! ” 

’Fraid not,” Harry answered. ‘‘ It’s all over. 
It was won before it began.” 

It was certainly won long before it was finished. 
Amid excited cheering and frantic waving of flags, 
a single boat glided past the finish line. The other 
crew had gone to pieces up the course. 

** Who are those that won? ” Mr. Danforth called 


266 


BOY SCOUTS 


over the rail to one of the boats that were clustered 
thick under the yacht’s stern. 

‘‘ The college boys,” some one answered. 

Plattsburgh crew stopped to fish.” 

‘‘ I don’t believe they did,” said the girl, incredu- 
lously. 

“ No, I don’t either; there isn’t any good fishing 
up there,” said Harry, soberly. 

“ Who ought I to cheer for ? ” she asked, survey- 
ing the party. 

“ Well, I guess those college boys are right in 
your line/’ Harry said. ‘‘ They’re certainly first- 
class oarsmen. I believe they come from some- 
where over in Massachusetts, don’t they? What’s 
that their friends are waving?” 

Amid much laughter, the blue-sweater crowd had 
hoisted a great banner above their little craft, on 
which was printed in charcoal : 

These are our regulations, — 

There’s just one fate for the scout. 

And the hayseeds, too, 

And when we’re through 
They’ll look like all get-out! 

There were loud congratulations from the occu- 
pants of this launch to the victorious crew, whom 
they boisterously pulled into their craft. The two 
heroes, who, it was plain to see, were crack rowers, 
joined them in a most complicated and idiotic con- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 267 

glomeration of raK, raH, rahs, cisses, booms, and the 
usual vocabulary of victorious athletes. 

But the program had taken on a new interest for 
Harry and Gordon, and they awaited the next heat 
with some suspense. To be sure, it was likely 
enough that a town the size of Plattsburgh would 
have a troop of scouts, or, for that matter, there 
might be a troop even in such a little village as Port 
Henry. But the Oakwood boys had never given 
this a thought, until now it appeared that a crew of 
scouts was to row in the second trial. 

That’s a pretty good one on you boys,” laughed 
Mr. Danforth, referring to the placard. ‘‘What 
scouts do they mean, anyway ? ” 

“You’ve got said Harry. “/ don’t know; 
there must be a troop, or at least, a patrol, organ- 
ized somewhere round here. They’ll never outrow 
that blue-sweater crowd, I can tell you that.” 

“Well, that’s a good taunt, anyway,” Mr. Dan- 
forth laughed. 

“ / think it’s insulting/^ said Miss Crosby ; “ and 
it’s perfectly dreadful poetry.” 

By a series of inquiries among the jubilant throng 
below, the party succeeded in learning that the next 
heat was to be between the Port Henry boys and 
some boy scouts from somewhere. 

The moments seemed long before the excitement 
along the shore told that the second pair of con- 
testants were coming down the course. Soon they 


268 


BOY SCOUTS 


shot into view, gliding abreast, as it seemed, with 
the little power-boat of the referee close in their 
wake. Harry studied the crews with his glasses, as 
the rise and fall of the oars became discernible. 

They’re walking along, all right,” he said, hand- 
ing Gordon the glass. ‘‘ Can you make out their 
flags ? ” 

They had left the three-quarters flag behind them, 
and the moving backs of the rowers and the long 
sweep of the oars were plainly visible. The rowing 
seemed mechanical — perfect. Each shell held its 
way wonderfully between strokes. Neither bow 
swerved, but they came down through the cheering, 
frantic crowds like two arrows. The flags, flutter- 
ing behind, afforded no hint to those at the finish 
line, but as the shells neared, loud shouts went up 
for Port Henry, and many flags were waved. 

A clumsy-looking motor-boat shot out from the 
shore, and followed in the wake of the referee’s 
boat, as close as it dared. It held several people, 
notably a man in white. The party on the yacht 
watched breathlessly as the oars rose dripping from 
the water, paused a fraction of a second in air, then 
plunged silently, uniformly, into the sun-flecked 
lake. 

Far forward, far backward, leaned each crew 
with mathematical precision, as the shells, side by 
side, sped on. Then one crept forward. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 269 

“ They’re hitting it up,” said Harry, as deafening 
yells rose about them. 

They were close on the finish line now, one nearly 
half a length ahead. Cheers for Port Henry filled 
the air. Come on ! Row ! ” some one shouted. 

You’re walking away from them ! ” 

The second boat’s prow was even with the for- 
ward rower of the rival shell. Then it lagged even 
with the second oarsman. Then it fell astern, amid 
a pandemonium of waving and yelling. 

It’s all over,” some one called. 

Then a voice from the motor-boat following 
called, “ Lengthen out ! ” 

The cry seemed to give new courage to the pair 
in the second shell. Their prow again rode level 
with the second member of the rival crew. Again 
they bent forward, their oars seemed for a second 
glued to the boat’s side, and as they rose again she 
shot forward. Again, and still again, the lithe 
forms bent, forward, back, and with each rise of 
the straining figures the craft leaped forward. 

Now the two shells were even, their crews rowing 
like demons. Then again amid the shouting from 
both shores, the voice from the motor-boat cried, 
** Lengthen out ! ” and the shell which had regained 
its position darted forward again, past the other 
boat, and amid a bedlam of yells, the screech of 
whistles, and the frantic waving of a thousand 


270 


BOY SCOUTS 


handkerchiefs and flags, glided past the finish line, 
a half-length ahead of its rival. 

In the moment of triumph, one of the victorious 
rowers was seen to sway, then sink forward. Harry 
could see it plainly — it was within a few yards of 
the yacht. The referee’s launch chugged up; some 
one called to the white figure in the old motor-boat, 
which was also drawing near. Others paddled up 
with congratulations and inquiries. 

“ Is there a doctor ashore ? ” some one called. 

No need for that, sir,” said the white figure in 
the approaching motor-boat. ‘‘ Fm a doctor myself 
— just help me get him aboard here.” 

Harry clutched the rail, speechless. He knew 
that voice, he knew that manner, he knew the glitter 
of the gold spectacles; yes, and he should have rec- 
ognized before the spotless suit of white duck. 

It was Red Deer. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE FATE OF THE BLUE SWEATERS 

All this had happened amid so much confusion 
and excitement on the lake, that before Harry re- 
alized it the stricken oarsman had been transferred 
to the motor-boat, which went chugging back up the 
course. Then he and Gordon stared blankly at each 
other. Even if they had had the presence of mind 
to call to Dr. Brent, it is doubtful if they could have 
made themselves heard above the tumult. 

It was Red Deer, Harry.'’ 

Sure it was — and that was Mac they lifted 
out." 

“ Who is Red Deer ? " asked Miss Crosby, ex- 
citedly. “ Were those scouts that won ? " 

For a moment Harry was too preoccupied to ex- 
plain. Yes, those were scouts that won," he then 
said abstractedly. 

The clamorous shrieking of the launch containing 
the blue-sweater fellows brought them out of their 
daze. Their scoutmaster had actually appeared and 
disappeared before them amid excited throngs here 
at this remote little village. Two of their own f el- 
271 


272 


BOY SCOUTS 


low scouts had, by almost superhuman effort, won a 
race before their very eyes. Yes, and those were 
the only two fellows in the troop who could have 
done it — save one. And now one of them had 
given out, and there was the final heat still to be 
raced. 

“These are our regulations, — 

There’s just one fate for the scout. 

And the hayseeds, too. 

And when we’re through 
They’ll look like all get-out!** 

sang the college boys, triumphantly, as they chugged 
about. Their boisterous, confident voices were 
greeted with laughter and cheers from the shore. 
Soon, their well-trained, crack oarsmen would come 
down the river, walking easily away from the scout 
crew, with its probably crude substitute. 

‘‘ I wonder how Red Deer got himself mixed up 
with those cracker jacks,” said Harry. 

Harry, what’ll they do ? They can’t put Nelson 
in — or Burt, either — it’s — ” Gordon looked im- 
ploringly into his friend’s face. 

‘‘Well, my boy,” said Mr. Danforth, clapping 
Harry on the shoulder, “ where’s your voice ? By 
Jove, that was a great victory! Why didn’t you 
cheer? Eh?” 

“ He’s deducing,” said Miss Crosby. 

Harry turned suddenly. “ Mr. Danforth,” said 
he, “ those fellows belong to our own troop. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


273 


Hanged if I know where they came from, but I — I 
— just can’t stand here and see them beaten after 
putting up a race like that.” 

The girl’s eyes were fixed intently on Harry. 
Gordon listened, his hand trembling on the rail. 
Down the course came muffled cheering, as the vic- 
torious shell, with its single oarsman, was towed 
back to the starting line. 

Then Miss Antoinette Crosby did a strange thing. 
She threw her arms around Mr. Danforth’s neck, 
and whispered to him, concluding by saying audibly, 
“ Please, please! ” 

That gentleman looked sharply at Harry, but said 
not a word. He walked across the deck, and called 
below : 

'' Captain, steam up the course as quick as you 
can ! ” 

In a moment the yacht’s bow came around, and a 
score or more of little craft went scooting this way 
and that. Then her whistle sounded, dignified and 
melodious compared with the screeching and tooting 
about her, and she headed up the crowd-bordered 
lake. 

“ Where are you going, sir ? ” came a voice from 
below. 

“ Up the course.” 

‘‘ You can’t go up the course now, sir,” came from 
the patrol boat. You’ll have to stay below the fin- 
ish line — you were told that before.” 


274 


BOY SCOUTS 


It’s a matter of great importance,” Mr. Dan- 
forth called. 

‘‘ Can’t help it. Fetch her round.” 

Take her up, Captain ! ” ordered Mr. Danforth, 
firmly. “Clear out under there if you don’t want 
to be run into ! ” 

“ What are they trying to do ? ” said a man in the 
judge’s boat, which came chugging up. “ Here, 
bring that craft about ! None of that ! ” 

“ Ahoy there, below ! ” shouted Mr. Danforth’s 
captain. “ Stand out from under if you don’t want 
to be run down ! ” 

The low, deep whistle sounded again, two gaso- 
line dories chugged frantically backward, and the 
big white yacht, serene and heedless, steamed majes- 
tically up the course. 

“ Didn’t I tell you he always has his own way? ” 
said the girl, coming up to Harry, who still leaned 
dazedly over the rail. “ Now you are going to dis- 
tinguish yourself — you’ve got to — for my sake ! ” 

“ How did you know I wanted to take that fel- 
low’s place. Miss Crosby ? ” 

Stupid!*' she said. “Do you think you’re the 
only person that knows how to deduce? ” 

“ I’m afraid it’s a hopeless task. Miss Crosby. I 
haven’t been in training, you know. I’m all tired 
out, and they’re a pretty skillful pair — those col- 
lege chaps — then — ” 


ON TAKE CHAMPLAIN 


275 


They’re an insulting, conceited set — and their 
poetry is at-ro-cious ! You’ve got to do it. You 
can beat them. I know you can ! ” 

“ Well, I guess that will help me to win, if any- 
thing can,” Harry said. 

Here, Harry, my boy,” said Mr. Danforth, com- 
ing up. ‘‘No time to be standing around talking 
with girls now. Come down in the cabin, and we’ll 
see if we can’t root out a jersey or bathing suit 
that’ll fit you — we’ll be up there in a minute.” 

“ Isn’t it wonderful! You’ve found them at 
last! ” the girl said to Gordon when Harry had gone 
below. “ And just to think, I was here to see you 
do it ! And oh, I want so much to see him row ! ” 

“ You’ll see him row, all right,” said Gordon. 

“ He can do most anything, can’t he ? ” 

“Yes — but he doesn’t know much about girls.” 

“ Why, what makes you say that? ” 

“’Cause he doesn’t. He doesn’t know as much 
as I do about them.” 

“ The idea of your saying that — he must know 
lots of girls ! ” 

“ He hasn’t had as much experience with them as 
I have — but, honest, there’s nothing he can’t do — 
honest.” 

“Tell me about him, won’t you? About the 
things he can do.” 

Would he! 


276 


BOY SCOUTS 


All was excitement on the float as the yacht 
steamed by, headed for the pier a few yards beyond. 
Evidently the oarsman who had collapsed was not in 
a serious condition, for there was Dr. Brent talking 
with one of the regatta committee. And there were 
Walden and Charlie Greer and Swift and Waring 
and “ Brick ” Parks, crowding about him. 

‘‘ Looks good to see Parks’s red head, doesn’t it, 
Kid ? Don’t shout, now, just wait — it’ll only be a 
minute.” It was like an inspiration to both boys to 
see the familiar faces. 

A racing shell containing two boys waited at the 
float. Each had a blue sweater thrown over his 
shoulders. Another shell, empty, was moored hard 
by. 

The yacht made a landing and Harry went ashore, 
followed by Gordon. Miss Crosby stood at the rail 
watching them as they went over the side. 

Remember,” she said, laughing, it’s a scout’s 
duty to help others. You see, I know the law ! ” 

The boys hurried to the float and for a moment 
stood on the edge of the little crowd, unobserved. 

“ I’m sorry, sir,” said Dr. Brent. “ There isn’t 
another oarsman I can put in. I thank you for your 
kindness, but I’m afraid it will have to go by de- 
fault. You see, we’re not prepared for this kind of 
thing, anyway; we’ve already accomplished more 
than I expected.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


277 

‘^Nothing doing?’' called one of the oarsmen in 
the waiting shell. 

‘‘ ’Fraid not,” answered some one in authority. 

Several fellows in blue sweaters, armed with gi- 
gantic megaphones, set up a victorious howl. The 
Danforth yacht steamed gayly down the course. 

Humph! All over. Those Welden chaps 
would win in a walk, anyway,” said some one near 
Harry. Then he heard the referee speak to Dr. 
Brent from his launch. 

‘^I’m going to start this crew down the course, 
sir, so that I can give them the decision; you are 
not prepared?” 

The expression rang in Harry’s ears. It was the 
scouts’ own motto. 

He pressed his way through the crowd and stood, 
face to face, with his scoutmaster and several mem- 
bers of the committee. 

Yes, sir,” he said quietly; we are prepared.” 

. You could have knocked Red Deer down with a 
feather. As for Walden and Charlie Greer and 

Brick ” Parks — you should have seen them. 
Vinton, the Hawks’ corporal, stood gaping like an 
idiot. Then the sudden appearance of Gordon 
broke the spell and turned the whole thing into a 
laugh. 

“Did you come up in that yacht?” asked the 
astonished Red Deer. 


278 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ Yes,” said Harry. '' WeVe been tramping 
around the country, looking for you. How’s Mac 
— what’d he do, just faint? Hello, Burt, how’s 
everything? Morrel, you’ve got your octagon staff 
along, haven’t you ? ” 

“ Do you wish to enter this fellow ? ” some one 
asked, while the crowd clustered about. 

Will you try it, Harry? ” asked the doctor. 

What do you suppose we came up in a private 
yacht for ? ” asked Gordon, who, being, as you might 
say, mascot of the troop, enjoyed the special priv- 
ilege of ‘‘ talking up ” to the scoutmaster. There’s 
a magnet on that yacht.” 

A what ? ” said Dr. Brent. 

Magnate, he means,” said Harry. 

The sudden appearance of the substitute did not 
seem to produce much anxiety on the part of the 
blue sweaters. On the contrary, they regarded his 
advent as affording them an opportunity of winning 
when they would otherwise simply have had the race 
without earning it. The casual glimpse they had of 
him gave them a good deal of amusement. He 
wore an ill-fitting bathing jersey, his face had the 
tan of a countryman, and the loose stride with which 
he approached the shell, followed by Pierce, was not 
the stride of a trained athlete. There was no ob- 
jection to his rowing when it became known that he 
was a member of the troop. 

As many of the scouts as their old boat would 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 279 

hold crowded in and made a bee line for the finish, 
Gordon among them, talking volubly. 

Harry looked the shell over as he and Pierce took 
their places. It was quite the sort of racing craft 
which one might expect to find in a country boat- 
house. It had two pairs of swivels, not very far 
from the sides, and was, indeed, little more than a 
narrow, attenuated skiff. Harry sat on the for- 
ward slide and for a few moments had some trouble 
getting Pierce’s stroke. He was the last one in the 
world to row jealous, but try as he would to accom- 
modate his pulling to that of his partner, he inevi- 
tably rowed him around every few strokes. 

He could not fail to see that Pierce was well-nigh 
played out. The other shell was a full length in 
the lead, and gliding steadily along with a length 
and evenness of swing that were beautiful to see. 
The crowds cheered vociferously, and since both 
contestants were outsiders, there was no encourag- 
ing word for the second shell as it wriggled along. 

Harry knew enough of pair racing to know that 
the forward oarsman is not free, and having his 
doubts about Pierce’s vitality, he had wisely taken 
the forward slide so as to watch him. It soon be- 
came plain that he must accommodate himself to 
ragged and erratic work. Whenever Pierce swung 
short or took a slack beginning, Harry had to exert 
himself to correct his partner’s fault and hold the 
course. They managed to get together in a spurt 


28 o 


BOY SCOUTS 


just beyond the half flag, and sent their prow up to 
the second rower of the rival craft. But it soon 
lapsed into a series of pitiable swerves, leaving them 
a full two lengths behind. With a coxswain, of 
course, they might have done better, but as it was, 
their progress was little better than ridiculous. The 
shouting along the shore had an occasional note of 
hooting in it. 

“ Let her run, Welden,” some one called deri- 
sively. ‘‘ It’s all over.” 

‘‘ Those fellows came here aching for a race, and 
they haven’t had one yet,” shouted a sonorous voice. 

The college boys were now more than three 
lengths in the lead, moving like twin pendulums, 
with long, uniform, supple swings. Together their 
oars rose, together plunged dripping, and steadily, 
without a tremor, their shell glided forward. 

The leading shell was passing the three-quarters 
when Harry looked around. In his hasty glance, he 
saw the finish, the gay flotilla with its welcoming 
flags, the dense throng. He heard the premature 
tooting of distant launches. 

“ Hit her up, old man,” he said ; careful, now, 
one — two — ” 

It was no use. ‘‘ Where are we ? ” asked Pierce, 
breathing heavily. 

“ There’s the three-quarters flag. Are you all 
in ? All right, old man — don’t try.” 

The disappointment in Harry’s voice could not be 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


'281 

disguised, and it spurred Pierce to a frantic final 
effort. He leaned far forward, plunged his oar, 
made a long, steady stroke, then before he rose, a 
hand stole over his own and the oar was taken from 
him. 

“ ThaPs all right,” said Harry, gently. Sit 
steady, old man, — not going to keel over, are you ? ” 

Half-consciously, and with a feeling of utter re- 
lief, Pierce collapsed, his head hanging forward, his 
hands clutching the gunwale on either side. 

That’s right,” said Harry. ‘‘ Don’t lean back. 

I need the room. I’ll splash you when I get her go- 
»> 

mg. 

Pierce did not know what it was all about ; he did 
not care, but he was vaguely conscious of ecstatic 
cheering and of a sudden dart forward. 

They were two racing oars that Harry had un- 
dertaken to manage — not a pair of sculls — which 
meant that there was a full two feet more length 
than a single arm was supposed to manipulate. He 
locked the oar into his own empty swivel. His 
lithe, slender form bent forward till it almost lay 
upon the prostrate figure before him. Then the 
quick, steady rise of his body, past the perpendicular, 
back till he seemed to lie prone. Then the quick, 
clean, firm lift of the dripping oars. Then the 
rapid, elastic recovery of his body, the long, well- 
balanced forward swing, accompanied by the 
straight reach of his arms. 


282 


BOY SCOUTS 


The shell glided forward under the impetus of 
this human machinery. Again and again, without 
the variation of the fraction of an inch in any move, 
the long pull was taken, and greeted with frantic 
howls from the shore. His hair blew about his head 
with a kind of wild picturesqueness, his movement 
was like an automaton — perfect, calm, indomitable. 
Presently, a perfect pandemonium of yelling and 
screeching rang in his ears. He glanced aside and 
saw that his prow was even with his rival’s forward 
slide. They were now within a few feet of the fin- 
ish. 

He pulled another stroke, then splashed water 
over Pierce’s head, as he had promised. 

The rival oarsmen glanced at him, surprised, ap- 
prehensive. The launch with the other blue sweat- 
ers approached as near as allowed, her occupants 
shouting advice vociferously to meet this new turn 
of affairs. Their placard was not in evidence. 

Close in the rear, Harry saw the referee’s launch 
clipping along, as if awakened to sudden and neces- 
sary activity. He was vaguely conscious of the 
dense, surrounding throng, of carriages and autos 
crowded in the road, of canoes and dories packed 
tight at the water’s edge. 

He was desperate, but calm. He knew what he 
wished to do. He knew enough of the sport to 
know that the sculler has one advantage, that 
of spurting. Between Contesting scullers, well- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


283 


matched, the spurt at the right moment usually 
means victory. If he could keep this position 
through his rival’s ‘Hong stroke,” then he stood a 
chance. 

Presently, the order came. “Long stroke — hit 
her up ! ” shouted their coach from the motor-boat. 
They darted ahead, had their little spasm, and Harry 
remained exactly where he was before — his bow 
level with their second slide. 

They were close on the finish line. The screech- 
ing was deafening. 

“ Hit her up, boys ! ” came a laughing mandate 
from the Welden launch. “ Once more, hit her up, 
and let her run!” 

The judge’s dory swirled about to clear the way. 
You would not have thought that Harry could give a 
longer swing nor pull a more effectual stroke than 
he had been doing. Yet the shell, bearing the hud- 
dled and exhausted scout and its single oarsman, 
darted silently forward like a streak. Its prow lay 
even with the prow of the rival craft now. The 
boys in blue sweaters yelled frantically to their crew, 
but their cries and orders were drowned in the 
tumult. 

Again, and still again, the agile form swung for- 
ward. Again, and still again, the shell responded, 
cutting the still, sun-flecked water like a knife. 
Now she was half a length ahead. Then there was 
a sudden shake of his head as the oars dipped, and 


284 


BOY SCOUTS 


his hair flew loose. It was a sight for a painter. 

Throwing all his strength into the pull, uniting in 
a final effort the utmost power and reach of arm and 
body, he swung back, his head hanging in a kind of 
loose abandon from the exhaustion of the stroke. 
And amid the frenzied cheering and clamorous wav- 
ing of hats and flags, he swept past the finish line. 

Just above him, as they brought the shell about, 
he could distinguish, amid the screeching of a score 
of boats, the deep, melodious whistle of the big 
white yacht. 


CHAPTER XX 


GORDON GOES UP IN THE AIR ALSO HARRY 

“ Hey, Harry, come up here, will you ? Gor- 
don’s having a fit.” 

“ Honest, Harry, you ought to see him — he^s 
wound up ! ” 

‘‘ On the level, Harry, he’s doing a hornpipe in 
the cabin — come on up, don’t miss it !’ 

“ Say, Harry, come up here till we get hold of 
you! How did you ever manage to do that, any- 
way? It was great! Gordon’s waving the field 
glass round his head — we can’t stop him ! ” 

Red Deer’s waiting to get his hands on you, old 
man — he’s got a scout smile a yard long! You 
ought to get a special award for that! It was 
great ! ” 

‘‘That was wonderful, Harry! You deserve a 
vote of thanks for licking those college fellows, but 
I don’t see how you did it single-handed ! ” 

The voices came from a group of scouts as they 
crowded at the yacht’s rail. A rival group dragged 
him into a large, broad, dilapidated fishing-smack, 
furnished with a gasoline engine. 

285 


286 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ I want all you boys to get out of that thing and 
come aboard here/’ called Mr. Danforth, seconded 
by the half dozen of the troop whose presence he 
had already secured. 

Harry was literally pushed up the steps, the rest 
following him. 

‘‘How are you?” said Dr. Brent, grabbing him 
with one hand and pounding his shoulder with the 
other. Mr. Danforth very cheerfully pushed Dr. 
Brent out of the way. “ Harry, my boy, how are 
you? It was magnificent! You’re a wonder! 
How do you feel ? ” 

“ Fine and dandy,” smiled Harry. 

“ You must be all played out,” said Morrel. “ Do 
you feel like a cup of coffee ? ” 

“ Do I look like a cup of coffee? ” Harry laughed. 
“ Where’s the Kid, anyway ? ” 

“ The Kid went up in the air when you touched 
the finish line and hasn’t come down yet. He told 
us all not to speak to you till he’d seen you first — 
didn’t he, Tilford?” 

“ Sure, they’re all crazy about you here, Harry. 
You’ve got them hypnotized. Gordon’s applied for 
a patent on you.” 

“ Say, Harry,” said Charlie Greer, the Beavers’ 
corporal, “ we’ve been writing to Oakwood. 
Where’ ve you been, you old tramp? Gordon says 
you’ve been doing light housekeeping on the top 
floor of old what’s-its-name mountain.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 287 

‘^Yes, Fve been cooking for the Kid,” Harry 
answered. “ He^s a whole famine in himself.” 

Harry, those were regular rowing oars, weren’t 
they ? How did you manage ’em, anyway ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, they were as long as a spelling lesson. I 
believe it was that placard those fellows had that 
helped me. I just couldn’t stand for that. Hel-lo, 
Langford, old boy! Well, it’s good to see your 
pudgy face ! ” 

“ Sh-h-h, here he comes,” cried Roy Carpenter, 
the Hawks’ patrol leader, as Gordon’s head became 
visible above the companionway. 

Dearie me!” said Waring. “Let’s get from 
under!” 

Gordon made a dive for Harry, and grabbed him. 
“ Come down, come down ! ” said he. 

“ Hello, Kid, down where?” 

“ Downstairs — she — she — ” 

“ Go ahead, Harry boy,” said John Walden, 
knowingly. “ By all means, go ! ” 

But Harry had no choice. 

“ I thought I would waif until you had seen your 
friends'' said Miss Crosby, shaking hands with him, 
“to congratulate you for your perfectly wonder- 
ful--" 

“ Did you have a good view. Miss Crosby ? ” 

“ Saw everything. And your friend explained 
things to me. Oh, he’s such an interesting little fel- 
low, and he isn’t a hit bashful, is he? ” 


288 


BOY SCOUTS 


Well, not so you’d notice it,” said Harry. 

All of Mr. Danforth’s party had now to congratu- 
late him, and in the midst of it Raymond Vinton, 
corporal of the Hawks, appeared in the doorway of 
the cabin. 

Mr. Arnold,” said he, with a profound air of 
mock deference, ‘‘ Goodwin, the daring aviator, has 
just sent a special message aboard asking if the 
victor of the boat-race would like to take a little joy 
ride with him over to Vermont. What shall I 
say?” 

'‘Oh, isn't that just lovely!" said Miss Antoi- 
nette. 

" Great,” answered Harry. " Things are cer- 
tainly coming my way. Here, Raymond, have you 
met Miss Crosby? Miss Crosby, Mr. Vinton is 
corporal of the Hawk Patrol, such as it is, and he’s 
great on deducing. You just waste a few minutes 
talking to him, won’t you, while I go on deck and 
see if they’re trying to guy me.” 

But they were not " guying ” him. Sure enough, 
there in a boat at the foot of the yacht’s steps sat 
a young man in a pair of greasy overalls. It was 
Goodwin’s mechanic. 

" Harry,” said Dr. Brent, “ go by all means. It’s 
a chance not to be lost. It isn’t every one who has 
such a dramatic opportunity of breaking his neck. 
And when you return, if you do, you’ll find the troop 
up at the float. If you are inclined to accept the 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


289 


poor hospitality of our humble camp after all this,” 
he added with a humorous smile, ^‘you’ll find us 
waiting for you with the Swan'* 

‘‘ The how ? ” asked Harry. 

“ The Swanj my boy, the boat you just saw. It 
is ours till September first — ours and paid for. 
Harry, my boy, I can see by the look in your eye that 
you are going to call your scoutmaster down for get- 
ting the troop mixed up in this racing affair — but 
we couldn’t resist the invitation, and your corporal, 
acting for you, voted to see it through. But as for 
the Swan, Harry, I will not hear one word against 
her.” 

She looks as if she might do a mile or so an 
hour — with the current. Is it your joke, Doc- 
tor?” 

I hired her from a country youth after scouring 
the country. If you choose to join the mockers, do 
so. / stand by the Swan, Harry, I’m afraid it’s 
going to be a job to drag the boys off this yacht, but 
it’s got to be done. Your friend Mr. Dan forth is 
great I ” 

“ They’re moving to Oakwood this Fall.” 

‘‘So I hear — that’s fine. Well, my boy, you’d 
better be off for your joy ride.” 

It was hard for Harry to say good-by to his genial 
host and the party on the yacht, but he made the 
rounds of the cordial group, promising to see them 
in the Fall — at least, the Danforths and Miss 


290 


BOY SCOUTS 


Crosby, who told him that she would surely be in 
Oakwood to see little Pen win the aero contest. 

With many expressions of good-will from Mr. 
Danforth, and a good deal of mock deference from 
the troop, he got into the little boat and was rowed 
ashore. The man in the greasy overalls led the way 
to a spacious green near by, around which a rope 
fence had been stretched. The enclosure was al- 
ready lined with people. Others, more anxious to 
witness the flight than to examine the machine, were 
comfortably seated on rocks or sprawled on the 
grass outside. The man’s greasy overalls acted as a 
password, and the crowd opened to let him cross 
the rope with Harry. 

That’s the fellow,” said some one, alluding to 
Harry, who gave no heed to the comments on him- 
self, for his interest was fixed on the center of the 
field, where a perfect whirlpool of dust was rising, 
almost entirely obscuring the aeroplane. 

“They’re trying out the motor,” the man ex- 
plained. 

“Jiminy!” said Harry. “She goes some, 
doesn’t she ? ” 

“ Four hundred and seventy turns a minute,” said 
the man. 

“ How fast will that send her ? ” Harry asked. 

“ Forty miles an hour against a brisk wind.” 

“ How fast do you suppose that would send a 
small boat ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


291 


Now you’ve got me — they don’t have to figure 
so much for slip in the water. Water’s a dense 
medium ; but the air’s thin ; you’ve got to remember 
that. You interested in air work ? ” 

‘‘ Why, yes,” said Harry, but I’m not very well 
posted. What’s the pitch of a propeller, anyway ? ” 
‘‘ That’s its angle — you can’t get two aviators to 
agree about that. Mr. Goodwin uses an eight-foot 
fan. You see, if we got the full benefit of those 
four hundred and seventy turns we could make a 
streak of lightning look like a snail, but you under- 
stand it’s like walking up a treadmill, — you’ve got 
to walk like the mischief to keep ahead of the game. 
Mr. Goodwin saw you win that race. Well, here 
we are.” 

It surprised Harry a little to hear this grimy-faced, 
besmirched, greasy young man talk so intelligently. 
But the experience is not uncommon for those who 
interest themselves in aviation. A machinist or 
electrician who lays down his ordinary work to de- 
vote his skill to the conquest of the air, usually does 
so by reason of an ardent love of the science; and 
there is not a more scientific and competent set of 
mechanics than those who have attached themselves 
to successful aviators. 

Goodwin, an active little man, with keen black 
eyes, came forward from the little group surround- 
ing the machine to welcome Harry. 

Ah,” said he, ‘‘ that was a splendid race. I con- 


292 


BOY SCOUTS 


gratulate you. It occurred to me that you might 
like to go up with me — eh ? 

‘‘ Indeed, I should,” said Harry. ‘‘ It was good 
of you to ask me.” 

“ Not at all, there’s an empty seat, if you’re not 
afraid.” 

Not much,” laughed Harry. I’d have come a 
long way for this chance.” 

“We haven’t got much air to stand on,” said Mr. 
Goodwin. “ We’ll have to speed a bit, I think.” 

“ We won’t get arrested for speeding, anyway,” 
suggested Harry. 

“ True enough,” laughed the aviator, as he went 
about his machine, trying the wire bracing as one 
tries the strings of a harp. “If there’s anything 
you want to know, my boy, just fire away. These 
reporters have got me worked up so I’m a regular 
^ Questions and Answers Column ’ in a newspaper. 
Now’s your chance — any posers?” He glanced 
whimsically at Harry, who was already absorbed in 
an inspection of the graceful medley of wing and 
wire and polished struts. 

The machine was a biplane of forty-two feet lat- 
eral extent, with forward stability planes similar to 
the Wright model. Instead of the tips of the main 
planes being flexible, however, which is a chief fea- 
ture of the famous Wright machine, the lateral sta- 
bility of the craft was controlled by hinged wings, 
midway between the upper and lower planes at each 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


293 


extremity, more after the fashion of the Van Anden 
device. Harry noticed the curve of the main planes, 
for he had heard that here lay one of the elusive se- 
crets of aviation and a rule which would apply as 
well to a boy’s model as to a man-carrying craft. 
The cross-ribs rose rather abruptly from the front 
an inch or more above the forward horizontal fram- 
ing, then curved evenly back. The curve of the 
canvas was not the arc of a circle at all, but a sort 
of humpback shape, cleverly designed to catch the 
air in front, imprison it for the fraction of a sec- 
ond, and pour it slowly out under the rear to make 
room for more. Many a stick had been steamed 
and bent and dried and thrown away before that 
ugly, but efficient, curve had been decided on. 

“ I must see that Pen has his planes flexed right 
if we have to go out and harpoon a whale to get the 
whalebone,” thought Harry. 

The strength and perfect rigidity of the machine 
were obtained by a multiplicity of wire braces run- 
ning in every direction. There was some good rea- 
son for the presence of every stick and brace, for 
every little curve or turn. Even the canvas was laid 
on diagonally for the bracing effect it might have. 
And though the machine looked simple, considering 
its great responsibility, Harry could well believe that 
every detail of it was the result of years of study 
and experiment. 

For the aeroplane is not a discovery, nor an inven- 


294 


BOY SCOUTS 


tion, either, in the ordinary sense, but the combined 
application and the nice adjustment of a dozen 
worked-out principles and a hundred ingenious de- 
vices for riding the baffling and unstable air cur- 
rents. Every jut and turn, every little projection, 
every eccentric form of wing or plane or rudder, 
had its scientific explanation. Yet most boys who 
see an aeroplane think they can go and build one. 
But the money which is often expended for wood 
and tools might better be used to purchase books 
containing the rudimentary facts, a knowledge of 
which has made the conquest of the air possible and 
goes far to make it safe. 

Two seats, side by side, were cozily placed in the 
center between the upper and lower planes, with the 
control device near at hand, and thus every move- 
ment that a bird makes, — the flex of wing, the flap 
of tail, the guiding tendency of this or that little 
stir of throat and body, — was at the command of 
the operator. The telescope, the first tool of avia- 
tion, had forced the swallow and the sea-gull to yield 
up their secret, and here it was amid a network of 
frame and wire, at the service of man. 

Goodwin’s voice aroused Harry from his absorp- 
tion. ** No questions answered after the train 
leaves,” he said. Harry felt very much at home 
with him already. Here was a man, unaffected, 
simple, offhand, competent, self-assured, and level- 
headed. Nothing of the crank or the visionary, — • 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


295 

the kind of man who helps to advance the science of 
aviation. 

I thought the propeller looked pretty big across 
the field,” said Harry; ‘‘but it doesn’t look so big 
now. That all there is to the motor, — just that 
that’s on the propeller ? ” 

“ That’s all, but it’s enough,” Mr. Goodwin an- 
swered. 

“ It makes a whole lot of fuss, anyway.” 

“ Right you are, and she fits like a suit of clothes. 
It isn’t wholly a question of how much power you 
have, you know, but does the power fit? That’s the 
question. See ? ” 

“ But doesn’t more power mean more speed ? ” 
Harry asked. 

Goodwin laughed. “ No, not exactly. The mo- 
tor sustains the machine in flight. Now, if there’s 
a good big supporting wing area, why, the engine 
can be smaller — it’s got to be, in fact.” 

“ I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the foot of the 
class,” laughed Harry. 

“So? Why? You never studied the subject? 
Well, see here, now. I’ll give you the A B C of it 
and then we’ll hop in. Th^ more spread there is, 
the less supporting work the propeller has to do. 
So a powerful motor fits a small machine, and a big 
machine takes less power to get the same results. 
Now, you take Curtiss; he cuts down his planes, 
makes his machine small, and what’s the answer? 


296 


BOY SCOUTS 


Does he get along with less power? No, he needs 
more. You see, it isn’t a case of more power, more 
speed. It’s having your power to iit your machine. 
The propeller is more than a propeller, — it’s a sus- 
tainer, as well. Stop the propeller of a boat, and 
the boat stands still. Stop an aero propeller, and 
down she comes. Propeller keeps her up and keeps 
her going — two jobs. If you lessen your support 
in one way, you must make it up in another. An 
aeroplane is sustained by its speed with help from 
its planes. Well, now, the more area you have, the 
less the motor has to do. You’ve heard aviation 
compared to sailing, and that’s just the very thing 
that it isn’t a bit like. Did you ever skate on thin 
ice? Well, there you have it. If you want to keep 
from going in, skate fast. Now, if you put a large 
motor on a large machine, you don’t get a normal 
increase of speed, by any means. So you see, it’s 
not a question of power — it’s a question of a nice, 
neat fit, as you might say.” 

Harry remembered this later, when he saw more 
than one model aeroplane lurch and flutter to the 
ground, to the amazement and disappointment of 
its young maker. And when he returned to Oak- 
wood, he remembered the words of his aviator 
friend, It isn’t a question of power — it’s a ques- 
tion of nice, neat fit.” 

“ That’s a gnome motor,” concluded Mr. Good- 
win ; ‘‘ revolving type, air-cooled, saves the weight 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


297 


of a fly-wheel because the whole thing is a fly-wheel 
in itself. Is she all right, Joe? Hop in, then, my 
boy.’^ 

It was a moment that Harry Arnold never forgot. 
He would have liked to study the machine a little 
longer before taking flight, for every detail of it 
excited his keenest interest. It seemed almost in- 
credible that this man who climbed into the seat be- 
side him could be so offhand about so momentous a 
thing as mounting and riding the invisible air, but 
he got in as if he were about to drive a familiar 
horse along a quiet country road. 

Two men stood behind the main planes, steadying 
them, and the mechanic stood at the center, at the 
end of the bird-like tail, where the vertical rudders 
were placed. 

The aviator placed one foot conveniently near a 
small pedal beneath him. His other foot and both 
of Harry’s rested on a bar, which was all that kept 
their legs from dangling loosely over the edge of 
the lower plane. On the outer side of each seat 
rose one of the supporting struts of the plane above 
them, forming a convenient handle to steady one- 
self by. 

Mr. Goodwin put his hands on either side of a 
wheel before him, placed like the steering gear of 
an automobile. Beside him was an upright lever. 
He wet his finger and held it up. Then he pulled 
out a little strip of cheesecloth and held that up. It 


BOY SCOUTS 


298 

fluttered a little to one side. ‘‘ A little to the left, 
Joe,” said he. The man at the tail pulled the ma- 
chine about till it faced directly into the breeze — 
what little there was. Then one of the men at the 
end came forward and began kicking stones out of 
the way. 

The suspense, to Harry, was delightful. Even 
here on the ground his position was one of open- 
ness and freedom. Below him there was nothing 
but the bar on which his feet rested. His position, 
little more than a comfortable perch, gave him a first 
thrill of exhilaration. 

Run her out, Joe,” called the aviator. 

There was a little jerk, and the machine started 
along the ground, gathering speed till it clipped 
along at a good pace. Harry saw the men at the 
ends of the planes pushing and steadying. Their 
chests were about level with the lower plane. Pres- 
ently, Goodwin put his foot on a little button, and 
Harry nearly jumped from his seat from the sudden 
whir behind him. Louder and more tumultuous it 
grew, till it rivaled the noise of a sawmill. He 
saw one of the men at the plane ends reaching up. 
Yes, they had left the ground. The frame vibrated, 
sending little tremors through him. They were 
skimming along toward the encircling crowd. 

Presently, Goodwin, holding the wheel steadily, 
pulled it toward him. The little pair of horizontal 
planes, resembling a box kite, which were situated 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


299 


about twelve feet in front of them, turned slightly 
on their axles so that Harry could not see between 
them now, and he was presently conscious of a 
backward tilt of his body. They were rising. The 
noise of the propeller just behind him was deafen- 
ing. The whole frame was convulsed with its move- 
ment. It was plain now that every wire was needed. 

Harry clasped the upright by his side and looked 
down. The line of spectators blurred as the machine 
passed over it. Then, as they mounted higher, fol- 
lowing the tilt of the forward runner, things became 
clearer, until, about three hundred feet from the 
grdund, land and crowd took their proper perspec- 
tive, and Harry saw beneath him hundreds of up- 
turned faces. 

He now felt scarcely any motion at all. When 
he closed his eyes, he could not have told that he was 
moving, save for the wind in his face. The deaf- 
ening roar of the fan made questions impossible 
unless he yelled, and the aviator seemed too much 
occupied to talk. 

Soon, still holding the wheel stiff, Goodwin 
pushed it from him, and the little planes in front 
twirled back to their former position, while the back 
of Harry’s seat seemed to be pushing him forward. 
Now, he could look straight between these two little 
forward planes again, and he knew the machine was 
coming to an even keel. They were at a height of 
five hundred feet or more, heading directly across 


300 


BOY SCOUTS 


the lake. Now and then, Goodwin turned the wheel 
slightly, and once, as he did so, Harry glanced be- 
hind him, and could just make out, through the 
whirring fan, the two vertical planes at the end of 
the tail turning a little to right or left, like a fish’s 
tail. 

The seat was not equipped with springs, yet there 
was no jolting; indeed, there was no sense of mo- 
tion at all, except for the wind, and the terrific 
straining and vibration of every part of the machine. 
Yet the boats in the lake beneath them receded, and 
in a little while they were above the Vermont shore. 

Now, again, the forward planes turned slightly 
and the greater spreads of canvas followed them obe- 
diently upward, till Harry reclined against the back 
of his seat as in a steamer chair. When they came 
to an even keel again he realized that this had been 
done to clear the tree-tops on a hill well in from 
the Vermont shore. The absence of all sense of 
rapid motion continually tempted him to release his 
hold of the supporting bar, only to grasp it again 
whenever he looked at the tiny specks below, and at 
the lake winding its way like a river on a map. 

Now, for the first time, the operator placed his 
hand on the lever, still holding the wheel stiff with 
the other hand. The hinged planes, out at the end 
beween the main planes, rose on the right-hand side 
and sank on the left-hand side simultaneously. 
There was a sense of sudden lift, the left end of the 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


301 


craft rose higher, higher, till the machine swung full 
to the left. There was no jolting, only a delightful 
consciousness of being swept around. Now, again, 
the crowd on the New York side was clear to view. 
Again the lake, with its tiny, screeching boats, 
stretched below them. When they were almost 
above the field whence they had started, the vibra- 
tion became less furious, the propeller slowed down, 
stopped. A grateful silence prevailed. 

‘‘Anything wrong?” asked Harry, apprehen- 
sively. 

“ No, indeed,” said his companion. 

The machine coasted slowly, easily, downward, 
held stable by the lever control, with an ever so slight 
declining of the forward planes. Harry did not 
know when they touched the ground. When he 
alighted, he saw the tracks of the wheels for fully 
fifty feet behind. And it was only in that way that 
he was able to determine where the aeroplane had 
left the unstable and invisible currents of sustaining 
air for the homely but reliable support of good old 
Mother Earth. 

“ Look at him,” said Goodwin, with a grin, as he 
climbed out. 

“ It’s easy to tell he’s one of those scouts we hear 
so much about,” laughed a reporter who stood near. 
“ First thing he does is to go back and study the 
tracks I ” 


CHAPTER XXI 


MAKING THE GLIDER 

Now, you see, Harry, if I hadn’t stopped to do 
that good turn for Miss Leslie, and missed the train, 
you wouldn’t have had a ride in an aeroplane,” said 
Gordon, as he hitched up his stocking and settled 
himself comfortably in the boat for the voyage to 
camp. And you fellows would have lost the boat- 
race, too.” 

''We don’t appreciate what a blessing G. Lord 
really is,” said John Walden, Hawk. 

" And he wouldn’t have met Miss Crosby, either,” 
continued Gordon. 

" He ought to be very thankful to you,” said Tom 
Langford, Beaver. 

" That’s the great thing about having a good-turn 
specialist always right on hand,” said Vinton, the 
Hawks’ corporal. “ When things are kind of slow, 
he just up and does a good turn, and presto ! there’s 
something doing for everybody! Why wouldn’t it 
be a good idea. Red Deer, to have a ' good turn ’ 
badge? We have the marksman’s badge, and the 
trackers’ badge, and so on.” 

302 


BOY SCOUTS 503 

‘‘ We might suggest that to headquarters,” 
smiled Dr. Brent. 

Well, anyway, Red Deer,” said Gordon, ‘‘ here’s 
a sticker for you. Suppose you have your choice 
of doing a good turn or being prepared, now which 
should you do ? ” 

Red Deer pondered a moment. ‘‘ Well, you see, 
Gordon, if you do a good turn, that includes being 
prepared ; you are prepared — to do the good turn. 
See? But if you just keep your mind on being pre- 
pared, and don’t think about good turns, why, then, 
the good turn often gets left. Technically, doing a 
good turn necessitates being prepared. You see, 
when a scout is a good-turn specialist, as you are, 
that really carries everything else with it. Of 
course, it is a nice question that you propound, and 
scouts might differ about it. Lawyers can never 
agree as to the law, you know — ” 

‘‘ That’s just what Mr. Danforth said,” inter- 
rupted Gordon. 

‘‘ But if I were you,” continued Dr. Brent, smiling 
whimsically, “I should go right on and carry out 
your regular policy — good turns first — then trust 
to luck.” 

‘‘ And the best turn you ever did,” said Brick 
Parks, ‘‘was to come up and find us. Kid. The 
camp wasn’t complete without you.” 

“ Well, anyway,” said Gordon, “ we’re all lop- 
sided.” 


304 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ What’s that ? ” said Dr. Brent, puzzled. 

Gordon hitched up his stocking, and launched 
forth with a complete account of his great discovery, 
with the result that Dr. Brent, who was steering, 
had to give the wheel to George Conway, until he 
was sufficiently recovered to take it in charge again. 

Half of the troop had gone on afoot, and by tak- 
ing a short cut across country reached camp first. 
The boat made its way to a point about two miles 
north of the village, then up a stream for half a mile, 
and there in a grove of silver birches was the Oak- 
wood Scouts camp. 

“ Well, here’s the needle in the haystack, Gor- 
don,” laughed Dr. Brent, stepping out. 

By the way, Kiddo,” said Harry, as they joined 
the group ashore, ‘‘ you were telling me of a way to 
find a needle in a haystack, the night before we 
started; you fix a magnet to the end of a long 
stick—” 

“ And then poke the stick in here and there,” con- 
tinued Gordon, ‘‘ and pretty soon you’ll find the 
needle sticking to the magnet; but of course there 
are other ways, and I thought if we didn’t find the 
troop one way we’d find them another. One way 
is, you — you — sit around on the haystack and — 
well — you just — pretty soon, you know, you’ve 
found the needle.” 

‘‘And that’s the way you found the troop,” 
laughed the doctor. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


305 

*‘Yes,” said Gordon. 

“ Have an apple, Kid ? said Morrel, pointing 
to a basket. 

“ Sure ! ” said Gordon. 

The camp-fire burned late that night, for Gordon 
Lord recounted their adventures. It was an una- 
bridged version and held the boys spellbound till 
midnight. It was in vain that Harry tried to mod- 
ify this or that detail which reflected credit on him- 
self, and it was in vain that Red Deer looked ruefully 
at his watch when one or other of the party added 
fuel to the already imposing blaze. Being a wise 
scoutmaster, he saw that Gordon’s enthusiasm, like 
the measles, must run its little course, and the sooner 
it was over the better. 

Now,” said Gordon, finally, ‘‘ it’s time to discuss 
our attack on Fort Ticonderoga and — ” 

But here Red Deer put his foot down, and the 
discussion was put over until the next day. 

That night Gordon and Harry slept in their own 
tent, with their own patrol, under the Beavers’ ban- 
ner. And they slept hard. But Dr. Brent, alone 
in his little tepee, broke the rules unseen, and sat up 
until the wee hours of the morning. The week 
they had spent in camp had not been an idle one, 
and he had in a good-sized wallet various papers 
and memoranda which would mean promotion and 
awards upon their return to Oakwood. 

For one thing. Brick Parks, in spite of his red 


BOY SCOUTS 


306 

head, had succeeded in getting near enough to a 
variety of birds and woods creatures to shoot them 
with his camera, which is the only way a scout 
shoots except in case of need. He needed only to 
develop his films and make prints, and the stalker’s 
badge would be his. 

Then there was Howard Brent, the doctor’s 
nephew, who had at last, after a terrific struggle, 
mastered the Morse code, and would, so the camp 
gossip said, cease to be a tenderfoot before the sum- 
mer was over. 

Matthew Reed would glory in the marksmanship 
badge, if he kept up his crack target work, and Dan 
Swift and Johnnie Walden would wear the first- 
class badge before another camping season. 

To these memoranda Dr. Brent added the letter 
from Mr. Wade, which recommended Gordon for 
the medal given for saving or helping to save life, 
and Harry for the signaler’s badge. On the back 
of this letter he made a memorandum of his own, 
about the saving of little Penfield Danforth’s life. 
Then he wrote a letter to Mr. Lord, and turned in 
for the night. 

The idea of attacking old Ticonderoga, and wind- 
ing up with a great laugh on the genial, but skep- 
tical, Mr. Wade, took the Oakwood boys by storm, 
to say nothing of Red Deer, who was having the 
time of his life among them. He was a man of 
about thirty-five, was Red Deer, whose great recre- 


ON LAKE CHAMPL'AIN 


307 


ation was getting among the boys, and He Had or- 
ganized the Oakwood troop quite as much for his 
own pleasure as for theirs. None of the boys could 
beat Red Deer when it came to roughing it. He 
could take off his neat gold spectacles, fold them up, 
lay aside his spotless white duck coat, and show 
you some fencing that was beautiful to see. When- 
ever he methodically and carefully removed those 
precious gold specs, and said, “Hold these a min- 
ute, Ben,” or “Harry,” as the case might be, the 
boys knew there was going to be “ something do- 
ing.” 

Whenever Gordon was about to undertake one 
of his unusual feats, it was his mischievous habit to 
put his two hands up to his ears, making the funny 
little twirl as if to remove a pair of spectacles, and 
by this sign the boys knew that something remarka- 
ble was about to take place. The doctor, who saw 
everything, had seen this, and it amused him greatly. 

Whenever Dr. Brent's trim little runabout stopped 
before a residence in Oakwood, you might be sure of 
seeing a boy or two sitting comfortably beside him, 
for one or several of them were always about him ; 
and the little Red Cross on the front of his white 
automobile might appropriately have had placed be- 
side it the full badge of the scouts. What is more. 
Red Deer had the Master-at-Arms badge, for he 
was not going to be handing out honors and earn 
none for himself, and his wrestling and jiu jitsu 


BOY SCOUTS 


308 

were the envy of his two patrols. In baseball, he 
played a very heady game at ‘‘ first,’' and his sky- 
scrapers were famous. 

For Harry Arnold, Dr. Brent had an unbounded 
esteem, and since it was one of his pet theories 
that laughter was a great medicine, he took frequent 
doses of it at the hands of Gordon Lord. In short. 
Red Deer was a true sport, and the proposition to 
go up the lake about the middle of August to repeat 
the historic assault on the old fort touched him in a 
susceptible spot. ‘‘ We’ll do that,” said he, rub- 
bing his glasses with a spotless handkerchief. 

Harry, you’ll be Ethan Allen. Don’t argue now 
— I appoint you — I’ll make other appointments 
later.” 

But there was a full month before this plan could 
be carried through, and judging from all appear- 
ances there was much to occupy the time. For one 
thing, Gordon was going to pull himself up to the 
first-class rank this summer, which means that his 
activities are worth watching. 

Harry was full of aviation. His meeting with 
Penfield had kindled an already existing spark, and 
his flight with Mr. Goodwin had fanned it to a 
flame. Now here, to cap the climax, were Howard 
Brent, Matthew Reed, and Ben McConnell, or Mac, 
of the Hawks, and Tom Langford of his own patrol, 
with a good store of pliable, selected willow which 
they had gathered for the manufacture of their 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


S309 


models to be entered in the Oakwood contest that 
Fall. But not a word did Harry say to them of the 
wonderful combination motor which Penfield was 
going to spring on the multitude, for he was not 
going to lessen the boy’s glory a particle. Mean- 
while, the others worked away on their models, in- 
troducing rudders and so forth, of any shape and 
size, to suit their fancies. 

One day, about a week after his arrival, Harry 
came in from one of his rambles (for he was fond 
of going off alone at times), and squatted on a rock 
under the cooking lean-to, where several of the boys 
were binding their frames with coarse linen thread. 

‘‘ What’s the matter, old chap — blues ? ” asked 
Mac, with an end of thread in his mouth. 

Harry laughed, for, oddly, it was a question often 
asked him. 

Where’s G. Lord, Esquire ? ” asked Matthew 
Reed. 

‘‘Don’t know,” said Harry. “He’s after his 
first-class badge these days. How’s that old bal- 
loon silk shelter you had last year, Howard ? ” 

“ Why, it hasn’t written me lately. It was a lit- 
tle under the weather when we camped last sea- 
son.” 

“That a joke, Howard?” said Mac. 

“ Well, you remember it rained, and the shel — ” 

“ Kill him, if he tries to explain it,” piped up 
Tom Langford. 


310 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ Why, what’s up ? ” asked Howard. 

I was thinking we might make a glider,” Harry 
answered. ‘‘ Red Deer’s talking of having us throw 
a bridge up, Baden-Powell fashion — over that 
chasm. A glider would be more sport, and help 
us over, too.” 

“ You’ve surely got the aeroplane bee in your 
bonnet, Harry,” said Mac. 

‘‘ Well, how about it ? ” said Harry. 

‘‘ Looks good to me,” said Langford. ‘‘ Where 
would we get the stuff? ” 

‘‘ Now you’re talking,” said Harry. “ Has this 
aero club any financial backing ? ” 

“If you mean, is this aero club able to launch a 
glider — ” 

“That meant for another joke?” asked Mac, 
picking up a stone. 

“ The answer is. Yes, severial of them. The 
question is, we have one Beaver in the club already ; 
could we stand for another ? ” 

“Of course, it would be an advertisement to have 
Harry Arnold a member.” 

“ Let up on that,” said Harry. “ Do you want 
to build one, or don’t you ? ” 

“ Surely we do,” said Mac, becoming serious. 

“ Well, then,” said Harry, “ we’ll need four 
sticks, — spruce sticks would be best, — twenty feet 
long, and we’ll need Howard’s old piece of balloon- 
silk, if we’re going to go up against the wind — ” 


ON TAKE CHAMPLAIN 


'31 1 

“ The first thing is to go up against the doctor/’ 
said Matthew. 

So Red Deer was taken into their councils. The 
upshot of it was that Howard Brent, Matthew Reed, 
Mac, Tom Langford, and Harry spent the rest of 
the morning with Dr. Brent making and criticising 
little diagrams on one of the doctor’s prescription 
pads. 

“ I think,” said Red Deer, at length, ‘‘ that that is 
about all you’ll need; the cross-ribs that are left 
over we can use for splints, in case of broken arms 
and legs — they’ll come in very handy.” 

The five boys went into Port Henry in the boat 
that afternoon in search of a sawmill or lumber- 
yard. 

‘‘ When G. Lord hears of this taking place in his 
absence, he’ll explode,” said Tom, as they chugged 
up the lake. 

Their first business was to send a telegram for 
Howard Brent’s old balloon-silk shelter, which 
would, with piecing, amply cover the two planes. 

‘‘What would you say if I sent for my old 
wheel ? ” asked Mac. The suggestion was received 
with acclaim, for an old bicycle is a perfect treasure 
house of fittings, wire bars, and various odds and 
ends useful to the ingenious amateur mechanic. So 
Mac, with much adding and eliminating and chang- 
ing of words, finally succeeded in concocting a sat- 
isfactory message to his father. 


312 


BOY SCOUTS 


‘‘ Better underline the word ‘ old,’ Mac,” said 
Harry, quietly, or he may send your new one.” 

MacConnell dutifully obeyed, while the operator 
grinned. Then, realizing what he had done, Mac 
proceeded to administer suitable chastisement on 
Harry. 

Do you think your father can make out your 
handwriting?” Tom asked innocently, as they went 
out ; ‘‘ that was a pretty hasty scrawl.” 

Mac could hear the operator snicker. ‘‘ I’ll put a 
hasty scrawl on your face. Tommy,” he said. 

At the mill they bought and had trimmed four 
spruce sticks about twenty feet long and an inch 
square. These were considerably thinner than the 
corresponding timbers of Goodwin’s machine, but 
they were the best that could be procured. 

‘‘ And they’re six feet longer than you said, 
Harry,” said Howard Brent. 

“ Well, never mind that,” Harry answered. 

Might as well have them cut down to the length 
we want.” 

“No,” said Harry, “leave them this size.” 

“ Twenty feet is long enough for any glider,” 
said Langford, eyeing him shrewdly. “ I know 
what you're up to. You expect to put a motot in 
her.” 

“ We’ll see how she goes first,” said Harry. 

Besides the four long strips, they managed to 
root out, with the help of the mill foreman, a couple 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


313 


of dozen strips four feet long and three-quarters of 
an inch in thickness. Some of these would be used 
for the horizontal struts, or cross-bars, and some 
for the upright stanchions. None were according 
to the regular specifications for a glider, but they 
were not so far out of the way as to destroy the 
chance of success and safety; and, as the boys 
agreed, they “ ought to take what they could get 
and be thankful.’’ For one thing, the uprights 
should have been round and highly polished to les- 
sen their resistance to the air, but the boys had to 
be satisfied with having the edges smoothed off 
with a few runs of a hand plane. 

Up to this point in their negotiations, the mill 
foreman had exercised his resources to satisfy their 
peculiar wants, though his manner was not encour- 
aging. But when Mac asked for about forty or so 
strips, four feet long and thin enough to steam and 
curve, he could contain himself no longer. 

‘‘Ye ain’t buildin’ a hen-coop, then?” he asked. 

“ No, not a hen-coop,” said Harry. 

“Huh. Thought ye was. Well, ye can’t use 
them long strips for a boat.” 

“ You have one more guess,” said Harry. 

“How’s that?” 

“ We’re building an airship,” said Harry ; “ that 
is, a glider — for gliding.” 

The man stared at them, amazed. 

“Well, you’ll all break your necks,” said he. 


314 


BOY SCOUTS 


But he condescended to tell them that Marty Forbes 
might have what they wanted down at his boat-yard. 
So they sought out Marty, who, on hearing their 
wishes, was still more discouraging. He had 
prophesied, he said, that half the boys would go 
crazy after seeing Goodwin fly, and he guessed he 
was about right. But he was willing to be a party 
to their rashness to the extent of selling them some 
thin strips, which he agreed to steam and curve ac- 
cording to Harry’s directions. So Harry cut a 
piece of stiff wire to the proper length and bent it as 
a pattern. There, that’s a parabolic curve,” he 
said. 

Paregoric ? ” said Marty. 

‘‘ No, parabolic.” 

Since the matter is important, and since every boy 
is interested in aeronautics, you may as well know, 
once for all, that this is the curve which does the 
trick : 



So don’t waste your time stretching barrel hoops, 
but cut a wooden pattern, bend your sticks over 
it, tie them down, then steam them thoroughly. 

If the boys had been in the city, they could easily 
have bought the necessary fittings and bearings ; but 
the hardware resources of Port Henry were lim- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


3^5 


ited to one side of the grocery and a rival establish- 
ment at the blacksmith’s. They managed to secure, 
however, a large box half full of little wrought- 
iron right-angle braces with screw-holes, a good 
stock of nails, screws, glue, sandpaper, spar varnish, 
and several rolls of heavy wire. 

As for tools, a small chest of handy utensils, pli- 
ers, hammer, file, and so forth, had been brought 
from the city (Red Deer’s surgical outfit, the boys 
called it), and to this stock they added an extra 
hammer and a saw. 

It was a merry company that started down the 
lake with this cargo of lumber and other necessi- 
ties, the result of a half-day’s shopping. Another 
trip would be made several days later for the bicycle 
and balloon-silk shelter, when the ribs would also 
be ready, according to Marty. 

‘‘ There’s one thing I don’t understand about 
aeroplanes,” said Matthew Reed, who was at the 
tiller. 

** Only one thing? ” asked Tom. 

‘‘Well, I don’t mean exactly that.” 

“ No, we understand,” said Mac. “ There might 
be two or three things.” 

“ Oh, let up on that,” said Matthew, annoyed. 
“ The Wrights say that every feature of the aero- 
plane is taken from nature. I suppose they mean 
from birds. Now, Brick Parks has got snapshots 
of a couple of dozen birds; he’s after the stalker’s 


3i6 


BOY SCOUTS 


badge, you know, and not a single one of them has 
a screw propeller.” 

‘‘ Slap him on the wrist for that, will you, How- 
ard ! ” called Harry, who was tending the engine. 

‘‘ Well, you can laugh, but that’s true. Show 
me a screw propeller in nature, and I’ll — ” 

‘Hf you’ll promise to be good. I’ll tell you where 
you can find one,” said Harry. “ Did you ever 
notice the seed pod of an ash tree? Well, you just - 
look at one the next time you get a chance, and 
watch how it comes to the ground. It’s a little pro- 
peller, all right, and it lets the seed down to the 
ground as easily as Goodwin landed. You just 
watch how it revolves.” 

“ That’s the kind of thing he finds out when he 
goes off in the woods by himself,” said Mac. 

“ Harry, you’ve got us all backed right off the 
boards. No wonder Miss — ” 

When are we going to start building this 
thing? ” Harry asked hastily. 

Right off — why not ? ” 

Suits me.” 

They were all so interested in the proposed glider 
and in getting the stuff from the boat that Harry did 
not at first notice Gordon among several boys who 
came down to the shore. 

‘‘ Looks like business, hey ? ” called one. 

‘‘ Bet your life ! ” said Harry. ‘‘ How much do 
you think the whole business cost us ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


317 


“ How much?^’ 

“ Seven dollars, all told.” 

“ Cheap enough.’’ 

‘‘Here, take this box, will you, Ray?” called 
Matthew, handing out the hardware. 

“Haul those sticks out, Raymond,” Harry said. 
Then, suddenly espying Gordon, “ Hello, Kiddo,” 
he called cheerily. “ Here, grab this bundle, and 
make yourself useful.” 

To his astonishment, Gordon turned on his heel 
and went up the path to the tents. Harry watched 
him, surprised. The others were too busy to no- 
tice. They carried their material to a part of the 
grove where the trees were sparse, but close enough 
to afford some shelter. Here they smoothed off a 
strip of already flat ground and partially sheltered it 
with Harry’s tenting. Then they sat about, dis- 
cussing the best way of going to work in the morn- 
ing. One by one, other members of the troop 
wandered over, squatted here and there, and con- 
tributed suggestions and advice, till Charlie Greer, 
who was cooking that week, called them in with the 
welcome sound of his tin horn. 

It was the boys’ custom (originating with them- 
selves) to stand at their places till Red Deer took 
his rustic seat. He sat at the head of the long, 
narrow board, one patrol occupying each side, the 
patrol leaders at his right and left hand. The soft 
evening breeze caught the fresh scent of the woods 


3i8 


BOY SCOUTS 


and wafted it among the merry, hungry campers. 
The stream which tumbled in a little cascade over 
rocks a short distance farther up its course, was 
their accompaniment. 

After the early supper, and just before sunset, 
they gathered about the flagpole and sang the song 
of the beautiful emblem that fluttered above them. 
Then Red Deer asked if any one had in mind any- 
thing which he had done or said that day which he 
would like to undo or unsay. It was his custom 
to ask this. One or two had, but the matters need 
not be told here. Red Deer never thought of them 
or mentioned them again, so why should I spread 
them broadcast ? After that, the flag was lowered. 

Before camp-fire, Gordon went off to a large rock 
on the top of a neighboring hill, to get a photo 
printing-frame which he had left there for expos- 
ure. It was a peculiar hill. It looked as if some 
giant might have sliced an ordinary hill in half, at 
its very summit, leaving one long slope, terminating 
at a sheer precipice. On the brink of the precipice 
stood this solitary, sun-bleached rock and one lonely 
tree. Below was an expanse of thinly wooded 
marshy land, enclosing a pond. And out of this 
pond, through reeds and dank undergrowth, a green, 
scummy stream wound its sluggish way into Lake 
Champlain. To look down from the precipice, one 
might almost imagine that he was gazing upon a 
tropical landscape. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


319 


On the rock where Gordon was accustomed to 
leave his printing frame were graven the initials 
‘‘ G. L.,” for he seldom identified himself with any 
place without carving his initials somewhere about ; 
and so completely had he taken possession of this 
sun-scorched hill that the troop had dubbed it 
‘‘ Kid’s Perch.” 

Harry saw him plodding up the hill, and went 
after him. 

‘‘ Hello, old man,” he said, as he came up to the 
rock. 

‘‘ Hello,” said Gordon, coldly. 

Harry stood for a moment, half-puzzled, half- 
amused. Then he stepped up, slapping him on the 
shoulder in his familiar way. Gordon turned re- 
sentfully. 

“What’s the matter. Kid?” Harry asked, his 
voice serious and full of feeling. 

“ I’m not bothering you, am I ? ” said Gordon. 

“ No, Kid, but what’s the matter? Can’t you tell 
me?” 

“ The matter is I don’t want to be followed — 
now are you satisfied ? ” 

“ No, Kid, I’m not. I want to know what’s the 
matter, old boy. I can’t go down to camp-fire with 
things this way — you can’t, either.” 

“ Oh, yes, I can. Besides, I guess you can get 
along all right. You seem to have plenty of other 
fellows.” 


320 


[BOY SCOUTS 


“ Kid, old boy,’’ said Harry, beginning to see 
where the trouble lay, ‘‘ don’t talk like that. You 
know, as sure as you’re standing there, that I — 
Why, old man, you don’t forget that week we spent 
together, do you ? ” 

You didn’t have any one else, then. Every- 
body knows it’s easy to play me for a good thing.” 
He turned to his printing-frame. 

Harry watched him. 

‘‘ Did it print all right, old man ? ” he asked, al- 
most humbly. 

Gordon, ignoring the question, started down the 
hill, but Harry caught up with him. “ Wait a 
minute. Kid,” said he. I don’t want Red Deer 
to know about this. Wait, just a minute, please. 
You know, we can’t always stick together, here in 
camp. Naturally, I’m interested in some things 
and you’re interested in others — photographing, 
for instance. And I’ve got the aeroplane craze now. 
I’ll get over it, you know, just as you got over the 
mumpsl Would you have gone to the village with 
us, if we’d waited? They all say I’ll break my neck 
yet. Won’t you help us make the glider. Kid? 
Come ahead.” 

‘‘ That all you’ve got to say ? ” said Gordon. 

‘‘ No, I want you to say that things are all right. 
I know we haven’t seen much of each other this 
week, but you know how it is. Kid. I was think- 
ing, coming up the hill,” he added, in a pathetic 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


321 


attempt to arouse the younger boy’s interest, that 
your suction-pad — you know, the one you invented 
— would be great if there were a ledge on that 
precipice — ” 

‘‘ Oh, give us a rest,” said Gordon. “ There’s 
Langford and Reed waiting for you, down there.” 

Kid,” said Harry, putting his hand on Gordon’s 
shoulder, ‘‘ do you remember — ” 

Take your hand off me,” cried Gordon, turning. 

“ You don’t mean that. Kid.” 

‘‘It’ll be time enough to crawl,” said Gordon, 
“ when I ask you to.” 

“ I don’t want to crawl, old man, — or we’ll call 
it crawling, if you like, — I don’t care. I just want 
to be friends. Come on, old Black Ranger.” 

But Gordon had started down the hill, and Harry 
stood still, watching him. 

The next was a busy day for the aero club, work- 
ing on the glider. When the troop assembled under 
the flag at sunset — the several parties of stalkers, 
trackers, fishers, home from their chosen haunts — 
and Red Deer asked the usual question, if any had 
done or said a thing that he would like to undo or 
unsay, Harry looked wistfully, almost imploringly, 
toward a certain round head, with a scout hat 
perched upon the back of it. But the owner of the 
round head neither spoke nor stirred. 


CHAPTER XXII 


HARRY FINDS A WAY 

The next day the work was at a standstill, for 
they had gone as far as they could without the ribs 
and the covering. So the aero club separated, Mac 
and Tom joining Nelson Pierce for a day of fishing. 
Most of the troop went down to the lake with Red 
Deer for a ‘‘ soak.’' Harry sat on the ground near 
camp all the morning, his back against a huge tree, 
and his knees drawn up by way of a writing desk. 
Here he used up page after page of a writing tablet, 
making a variety of diagrams, only to crunch up 
each leaf and stuff it into one or other of his pockets. 

No one was about except Charlie Greer, cook, and 
Johnnie Walden, cookee, who were busy in the lean- 
to. When Harry finally ambled over toward them, 
he was stiff from his long sitting. Out of the fifty 
or so sheets of paper he had used, there were only 
six that he saw fit to save. The rest he pulled out 
from his various pockets. 

I’m a human waste basket, Charlie,” said he. 

Here, burn these up, will you ? ” 

“Figuring out your glider?” Charlie asked. 

322 


BOY SCOUTS 


323 


Harry creased a sheet of paper into an arrowy 
form and shot it through the trees. Look at that 
go, will you, Charlie ? ’’ He went and picked it up 
and brought it to Charlie to burn. Then he wan- 
dered off, his hands in his trousers pockets. He 
passed Morrel, who was on sentinel duty at the edge 
of the grove. 

What’s the matter, old man ? ” said Morrel. 

You look lonesome.” 

‘‘ Come on down to the village,” said Harry. He 
knew Morrel couldn’t go, but he asked to be sociable. 

In Port Henry, he jumped upon the bench in 
Marty’s boat-yard. ‘‘ Got those paregoric ribs 
ready ? ” said he. 

Marty looked at him suspiciously, as if he were 
beginning to see through some involved swindling 
game. ‘‘Thought you was cornin’ down in yer 
boat to-morrer.” 

“ So we are, but I’m in a hurry to see one of 
them.” 

“ Well, there they be,” said Marty, with lofty 
contempt. “ You’re daft if you go into this aero- 
plane business.” 

“ I know it,” said Harry, “ but I can’t lielp it ; I 
was born that way. Can I take one of these 
along?” 

“ Guess that’ll be all right,” drawled Marty. 

When the other boys returned from their various 
occupations they found Harry squatted near the 


324 


BOY SCOUTS 


unfinished glider, contemplating with critical gaze 
the solitary rib, which he had fastened in place. 

The work, so far, consisted of two rectangular 
frames, each twenty-four by three feet, and joined 
at the corners by the right-angle braces, fastened 
with screws. The fact that these frames were four 
feet longer than the regulation trial glider would 
seem to indicate a sneaking intention on Harry’s 
part to install motive power sometime or other ; but 
if he ever did, it is not a part of this story. 

Besides the end pieces, four other cross-bars, or 
struts, had been fastened between the beams at even 
intervals, except that in one of the frames the two 
nearest the center were only two feet apart. This 
would be the under plane, and the space in the 
center being left uncovered, the passenger might 
pass his arms over these center cross-bars, hanging 
by his armpits. The lateral balance of the glider 
would thus be controlled by the sideways swinging 
of his legs, and its coasting inclination — that is, 
the tilting upward or downward of its air-cutting 
surfaces — by his sliding backward or forward on 
these central struts. 

Thus, in this simple form of glider, the weight of 
the operator’s body takes the place of complicated 
stability planes and rudders, and all that is needed 
to maintain a level keel is a level head. 

‘‘That rib looks lonesome there, Harry,” said 
Tom Langford. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


325 

Well, it will have to stick it out alone to-night,'’ 
Harry answered. 

Looks like a fence that's fallen down, doesn't 
it ? " said Howard. 

They spent some time screwing on more of the 
right-angle braces, for though they lacked many of 
the fittings usually recommended for such work, 
they had an abundance of these braces. They 
served very well to hold all corners firmly and rigidly 
together, although of course absolute rigidity of 
such open framing could only be secured by a thor- 
ough system of taut wire trussing. 

‘‘ Guess she won't fly away to-night," said Tom 
Langford. “ Come on down and clean up for 
supper. I say, it makes me sad to see that lonely 
rib there." 

The next day they went into Port Henry with 
the Swan, and got the bicycle, the silk shelter, and 
the rest of the ribs. There were forty-one, all told. 
They were curved to perfection, and the boys were 
vociferous in their thanks to Marty. On the way 
back, one of them slipped into the water. 

Floating rib," said Matthew Reed. I knew 
a man once who had a floating rib." 

Joke," said Mac. 

“Well, people do have such things as floating 
ribs," protested Matthew ; “ ask Dr. Brent." 

“ Very clever," said Tom Langford. “ Let's all 
laugh." 


326 


BOY SCOUTS 


Hope you choke/’ grunted Matthew. 

The next day the ribs were fastened in place, and 
these, of course, had a bracing effect on the frame. 
On the upper plane there were twenty-one ribs, 
placed at even spaces across the frame. On the 
lower, one rib was omitted in the center, where there 
would be no cloth covering on account of the open 
space required to hold the passenger. Thus the 
ribs, were something over a foot apart. Since the 
frames were only three feet wide and the ribs four 
feet long, it followed that they had to project a 
foot over one edge, and this of course must be the 
back, or after, edge. The front or abruptly curved 
end of each rib was brought flush with the long 
beam and screwed down to it with a long, flat- 
headed screw. Then where it crossed the after beam 
it was also screwed down. They were careful to 
see that each one was correctly squared with the 
long bars, so that the ribs, when placed, were par- 
allel with each other. 

When their work was finished, the boys squatted 
about, surveying the result of their labor and com- 
menting on the scientific and shipshape appearance 
it was beginning to assume. The curved ribs had 
transformed the fencelike frames into two graceful 
pieces of lattice, with a sort of aerial, buoyant as- 
pect that immediately suggested the aeroplane. Up 
to this point the work might have been intended for 
any one of a dozen purposes. Not so now. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


32; 

‘‘ She’s going to be all right,” said Mac. 

Where’ll we try her out — down the hill ? ” 

‘‘ We’d better try her on the level first,” said 
Harry. 

“ Certainly, we’ll do everything on the level,” ven- 
tured Matthew. 

‘‘ Matty,” said Tom, ‘‘ if you don’t stop making 
these jokes — ” 

“ I can’t seem to satisfy you fellows,” said Mat- 
thew. That wasn’t such a bad one — ” 

Wouldn’t it be a good idea,” asked Howard, 
innocently, to put the covering on before we try 
her out ? ” 

‘‘ Mightn’t be a bad scheme,” said Harry. 

You know most of them are covered,” Howard 
said; ‘‘they say it helps them to rise.” 

Two sonorous blasts of Charlie Greer’s tin horn 
put an end to the conversation. Near the lean-to 
the trunk of a young tree had been felled and rested 
horizontally in the forks of two others. From this 
hung a line of seventeen towels, rough dry, but spot- 
less, each one bearing a scout’s initials. The cookee 
laundered these every sunny day, by Red Deer’s or- 
ders. In process of preparation for supper, Harry 
reached the rack before the others, and came upon 
Gordon giving his round face a few final rubs. 

“ Hello, Kid,” he said cheerily. 

“ Hello,” Gordon answered. 

“Thought we’d see you over yonder to-day. 


328 


BOY SCOUTS 


She’s beginning to look quite shipshape, Kid. 
Come on over in the morning and take a look. 
Guess we’ll get her finished to-morrow, if Mat 
doesn’t stop to chin too much. Been stalking to- 
day?” But there was no answer; and when 
Harry’s face emerged from its towel, Gordon had 
disappeared. 

It developed from camp-fire talk that night that 
Gordon had been stalking with that indefatigable 
stalker, Brick Parks. Parks, after long and pa- 
tient effort, had managed to get a first-class snap- 
shot of a hawk, for it was his public-spirited wish 
that the Hawk Patrol, of which he was a member, 
should have some sort of representation of their 
patron bird, produced by his own hand. And the 
idea had fired Gordon with enthusiasm, so that for 
the last two days he had been haunting the stream, 
armed with his trusty little “ Brownie,” in the hope 
of bringing its deadly focus on a real live beaver. 

Under ordinary circumstances, he would have 
consulted his patrol leader about this, and if he had 
he might have directed his search more wisely ; but 
as it was, he was going to triumph over the entire 
patrol, he was going to do them a magnificent good 
turn, he was going benevolently to donate eight pho- 
tographs of a beaver, one for each member, and Ar- 
nold, when he received his, would feel the sting of a 
remorseful conscience, and that would serve him 
right. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


329 

“ Any beavers to-day ? ” asked the doctor, as he 
took his customary seat amongst them. 

‘‘ No, sir,’" said Gordon. 

“I should think that land under the precipice 
might have a beaver,’’ the doctor suggested, ‘‘ near 
the pond, I mean. I believe you’ll find them pretty 
scarce, though, Gordon. A muskrat wouldn’t do? ” 

“ Of course not,” said Gordon. ‘‘ We’re not 
muskrats.” 

‘‘ Well, a muskrat is a kind of a small beaver,” 
protested the doctor, cautiously. 

‘‘Just the thing,” said Til ford Morrel, Hawk. 
“He’s a kind of small beaver, aren’t you. Kid?” 

The talk turned to the all-important topic of the 
glider, and Red Deer fell a victim to the ruse which 
was practiced on him nearly every night, that of 
getting him interested in some absorbing topic just 
before eleven o’clock. Then, at about twelve, he 
would rise with great alacrity, saying that the hour 
was outrageous, but that he had only himself to 
blame. 

In the morning came the most difficult part of the 
work, especially difficult since they were in the 
woods and had not the proper material for what 
they had to do. This was to fasten the two planes, 
one above the other, by means of the upright stan- 
chions. If they had been in the city, their 
stanchions would have been round, and it would 
have been a simple matter to procure brass sockets 


330 


BOY SCOUTS 


for the ends to rest in. As it was, Mac suggested 
buying twelve ordinary brooms, which would have 
cost them about five dollars. Harry improved on 
this by suggesting hickory rake-handles, which can 
be purchased separately for twenty cents each in 
any country store. But since they had no round 
sockets, square stanchions would, on the whole, be 
best. 

Besides,’^ said Tom, I wouldn’t have the nerve 
to walk into that store and ask for twelve rake- 
handles. Every merchant prince in town thinks 
we’re a pack of lunatics, as it is. Marty Forbes 
pities us. So does the telegraph operator. When 
I asked for piano wire, those two fellows in the 
hardware store looked at each other and winked. 
Come on, let’s get busy with the square stanchions.” 

“That’s right,” said Matthew, “have the stan- 
chions on the square if we mean to use the machine 
on the level, then — ” 

Mac walked grimly up to him and shook a chisel 
in his face. “Matthew, the day has just started; 
you are forgiven this once, but don’t let it happen 
again. Now, you remember ! ” 

“ Come on, messmates,” said Walden, tightening 
his belt; “are we going to get through to-night?” 

“ Indeed we are ! ” said Harry. 

They placed one of the four-foot stanchions in 
the corner of the frame, held it upright, and screwed 
it on by means of the right-angle, wrought-iron 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


331 


braces. They used two of the braces, one flange of 
each screwed to a side of the upright, the other two 
flanges screwed one along the long beam, the other 
along the end cross-bar. When they had done this, 
the stanchion stood plumb upright and solid. If 
you do not care to pay fancy prices for brass stan- 
chion sockets, do not let the books frighten you 
into doing so. These little wrought-iron braces, 
with screws to match, will do very well, and square 
stanchions are not half bad. 

They put a stanchion wherever there was a cross- 
bar end. Now came the job of lifting the other 
frame and placing it on the stanchion-tops. When 
this had been secured, the whole frame was not as 
steady as they wished. But they contemplated their 
handiwork with admiring comments. It looked for 
all the world like Goodwin’s biplane. 

Now it was time to lay violent hands on Mac’s 
old bicycle, and the boys went at it as if it were a 
cold turkey the day after Thanksgiving. Their ob- 
ject was to furnish the glider with wheels, placing 
them to the rear near the ends of the lower plane, so 
that the legs of the operator might form a third 
wheel, in a sense, relieving him of much of the strain 
of a sudden alighting. They remembered the 
wheels on Goodwin’s machine, and they had not 
stopped to reflect that in a light-weight glider their 
room might be better than their company. It fell to 
Harry to discover a better use for the old wheels. 


332 


BOY SCOUTS 


'' Here’s a way to truss her up good and tight/’ 
said he. “ We don’t need these wheels — she’s as 
light as a feather. And here’s a way to pull the 
wiring taut. That’s very necessary. Why, Good- 
win walked around his machine trying all the wires, 
and they sounded like harp strings, they were so 
tight.” 

If you have a bicycle, you must have noticed that 
one end of the spoke is threaded and screws into 
a little turnable socket. They filed off each one, 
leaving the threaded end and its socket on the spoke. 
Then they cut the spokes a few inches from the sock- 
ets, and bent the other ends into the shape of a 
hook eye. Now, they took a strand of wire, bound 
it firmly to one corner of the frame, drew it loosely 
to an opposite corner, and cut it in the middle. One 
severed end they bound to the threaded socket, the 
other to the eyelet they had made in the spoke. The 
spoke was then screwed into its socket, and by this 
operation the wire was pulled taut. It sang and 
vibrated when they tried it with their fingers. 

“ Hurrah ! How’s that for trussing ! ” exclaimed 
Howard Brent. 

We can screw these wires so tight she won’t give 
a particle,” shouted Tom. Good for you, 
Harry ! ” 

The idea was a good one, for since absolute rigid- 
ity of the long planes is imperative, it follows 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


333 


that the trussing and bracing by wire must be per- 
fectly tight — tighter than any pair of hands can 
draw it. It was a particularly happy notion in this 
case, as it permitted of the glider's being easily 
taken apart. 

Several of the boys now got between the two 
planes, being careful not to step on the ribs, and 
began trussing. They wired each section sepa- 
rately, stretching a wire from each corner to the 
diagonally opposite corner, — that is, from the lower 
end of the back stanchion to the upper end of the 
next forward stanchion, and so on. 

Reminds you of that game you play with string, 
— cat in the cradle — doesn't it ? " said Matthew. 
That was as near as he dared approach to a joke. 

‘‘ Yes, dearie," said Mac. 

They had to be careful that no wires should span 
the open space to be occupied by the passenger. As 
each wire was fixed in place, it was tightened by 
turning the little bicycle-spoke socket, and it was a 
never failing delight to the boys to spring these 
wires and listen with satisfaction to the long vibra- 
tion which told how tightly they pulled the frame 
together and held it rigid. 

When the trussing was finished, Mac stepped into 
the operator's place, grasped the cross-bars, and 
lifted the machine. It tilted to one side, then to the 
other, but did not sag. 

“ A couple of you hold up the ends," said Mac, 


534 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ while I hang in the middle, and see if it holds 
stiff.’^ 

Two boys did so, but the long frame did not give, 
nor was there any sound of straining. 

‘‘ She’s what G. Lord would call a James Dandy,” 
said Tom. 

“ She’s a lalapazuza ! ” Howard shouted, throw- 
ing his cap in the air. 

“ All we have to do now is to fit on her silk 
dress,” said Harry. 

This was quickly done. They cut the silk into 
strips wide enough to span two rib-spaces. Each 
strip was turned under the forward bar, which was 
smeared with glue, then tacked with copper tacks 
and pulled tightly to the after bar, where it was also 
fastened. The edges of the strips met at every 
second rib, where glue was also smeared and the 
overlapping edges tacked down. 

There was some kind of a thin moulding run- 
ning along over the ribs on Goodwin’s machine,” 
said Harry, thoughtfully. 

Harry, was there anything about Goodwin’s ma- 
chine that you didn’t see?” asked Mac. ‘‘Your 
beautiful gray eyes are certainly wonders for seeing 
things.” 

Harry, ignoring the compliment, departed, and 
presently reappeared with a felt duffel bag. 

“ That’s mine,” said Matthew Reed. “ What are 
you going to do with that ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


335 


Pm going to attach it/’ said Harry. 

** Attach it to what ? ” 

‘‘ Attach it in the interest of science. Now, Mat- 
thew, don’t cut up and be naughty at the last min- 
ute. You know you have two of these.” 

Matthew subsided, under a storm of references 
to his lack of public spirit, and the felt bag was cut 
into long, narrow strips, slightly wider than the 
ribs, and tacked along over them. 

The lower plane was covered in the same way, ex- 
cept that the two-foot space between the central 
struts was left free of rib and covering, to accom- 
modate the passenger’s body. Thus a boy could 
step into this space (always watchful not to step on 
the flanking silk) and, stooping, take the struts in 
his two hands and lift the complete frame. 

“ She’s did ! ” shouted Tom Langford, throwing 
a tack-hammer into the air. 

They stood about, eying the completed glider 
admiringly. There it stood, its ends resting on 
two logs, graceful, aerial, but strong, its taut cop- 
per wiring crossing and recrossing between the 
curved surfaces and glittering in the declining sun- 
light. They surveyed it from every angle, with 
enthusiastic comments. From the rear, the slight 
uniform curve of the silk to the rib summits, with 
the outline of the ribs showing at even intervals 
beneath the tight-drawn cloth, was beautiful. They 
looked from end to end, through a long vista of 


336 


BOY SCOUTS 


slanting wires. Howard Brent stepped on the mid- 
dle of one of the lower bars and jumped ever so 
slightly. There was no spring. The bar, one inch 
in diameter, held rigid like a bar of steel. 

You wouldn't think you could balance that side- 
ways by holding it in the center, would you ? " said 
Mac. 

‘‘ Balancing sideways is what they call ‘ lateral 
stability,' Mr. McConnell," said Tom. ‘‘ If we're 
going to do this, we want to do it right, as Master 
G. Lord says about our proposed assault on Fort 
Ticonderoga." 

‘‘ I agree with G. Lord," said Tom. “If we're 
going to be Green Mountain boys, we ought to roll 
our r’s and talk like them and carry rusty swords 
and worn-out guns. G. Lord has the right idea." 

“ That's what Red Deer calls entering into the 
spirit of a thing," said Matthew ; “ and that's G. 
Lord’s specialty, all right. He wouldn't stand for 
‘ balancing sideways.' It would have to be ‘ lateral 
stability ’ for him.” 

“ I've missed him over here," said Mac. “ Won- 
der why he hasn't been around ? " 

“Oh, he won't bother us much till he uses up 
those three films he bought." 

Harry said nothing, but he realized keenly that 
his pleasure in building the glider and in the an- 
ticipation of using it had been sadly marred. 

They rounded the struts which the passenger 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


337 


was to hold, and bound them with felt so that the 
hands and armpits might not chafe. Then they 
gave the whole thing, covering and all, a coat of 
varnish. This would not only fill up the weave of 
the silk, making it air tight, but stiffen it as well; 
and the varnishing of the stanchions in particular 
would cause them more easily to deflect the air. As 
a precaution against a sudden rise of wind, the four 
corners were anchored to the earth by ropes and 
stakes and the apparatus was left to dry over night. 
In case of rain it might be brought into one of the 
tents. 

That night at camp-fire some one rashly tried to 
introduce the subject of Myer signaling, only to be 
put down by a veritable storm of aeronautic talk. 

“ Now,’^ said Red Deer, Tve waited till this 
glider was finished to make a remark. Is the coast 
clear for about five minutes ? All right, then. 
Now, you understand that I’m on a vacation. It 
wouldn’t be fair to ask me to set broken joints and 
bind up wounds, would it ? ” 

Certainly not,” laughed several, seeing the dip- 
lomatic trend of his talk. 

Well, now, I want you to begin on level ground. 
Be satisfied with gliding a few feet or so close to 
the ground. You’ll find old terra firma a pretty 
good friend. Then, when you’ve got the hang of 
it, try it on the hillside if you wish. There isn’t so 
very much slope, especially down toward the foot. 


338 


BOY SCOUTS 


But get the hang of it first. That’s the way the 
Wrights did. Understand, Harry?” 

The next morning they tried it out in a near-by 
field, and came in to dinner enthusiastic over their 
success. Mac took his place in the center, holding 
the felted struts in his hands and letting his arms 
hang straight down. Thus the lower plane was 
about two feet from the ground. Harry and Tom 
steadied the ends. The glider was faced directly 
into the breeze and Mac started to run. The first 
thing he knew, his feet had left the ground. Then 
one of the ends sank, scraped the field, and he was 
down again. 

''If you hadn’t looked around to see if I was 
still holding on, that wouldn’t have happened,” said 
Tom, " Try it again.” 

"As soon as your feet leave the ground,” said 
Harry, " stick them forward a little. That will tilt 
the forward edge up — not too much, though.” 

The next start was better. As soon as Mac’s legs 
were clear of the ground, he projected them slightly, 
which kept the glider from coming down. And 
now instinct — the same instinct which enables a 
bicyclist to right his tilting wheel by just the exact 
degree of motion — came to his aid. The slight- 
est movement had a controlling effect on these far- 
spreading wings. He slid his hands four^or five 
inches backward, throwing the cutting edge of the 
long planes up. Thus the glider, scooping the air 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


339 


under its curved surfaces, rose. Also instinct 
seemed to tell him when it was about to cant, and 
he inclined his body sideways, accordingly. The 
sensation of feeling the long planes obey this slight 
move was delightful. But it was too soon for in- 
stinct to be attuned to all the subtle little calls upon 
it, and presently, leaning too far forward, that deli- 
cate and stubborn thing known as the center of grav- 
ity shifted, and the glider came coasting to the 
ground. He had risen about twelve feet and glided 
about forty. 

Next Harry tried it and did still better, starting 
with more power after a longer initial run. It 
was a very easy thing to learn how to do. One 
after another the boys tried it, with a trifling mis- 
hap now and then. Bert Waring glided fifty-one 
feet from the rising point, which was the record un- 
til Red Deer took off his gold specs and handed 
them to Roy Carpenter. 

‘‘ Get from under ! ” said Matthew Reed. 

“ Move those trees out of the way,” said Lang- 
ford. 

‘^Will you be back to-night, Doctor?” asked 
Mac. 

Red Deer made a very scientific flight, doing a 
sort of scenic-railway curve, almost alighting, then 
up again. His lateral balancing was admirable. 
He got up as high as thirteen or fourteen feet, and 
tacked three feet on to Waring^s record. 


340 


BOY SCOUTS 


“By Jove, that’s splendid sport, isn’t it?” said 
he, as he alighted. 

“ Let’s try it down the slope now,” said Roy Car- 
penter. 

They took it up to within about twenty-five feet 
of the precipice. That was as far as Red Deer 
would allow it to be carried. 

“That’s far enough,” he called, as he came up 
after them. “ I want you to be careful never to go 
nearer the top than this. If any wind should catch 
you and take you over the brink, it would be all 
up.” 

“ It would be all down/* said Matthew. 

“ I hate to think what it would mean, boys,” said 
the scoutmaster, earnestly. “ Try it down the slope 
all you want to, but don’t go nearer than this to the 
precipice. If one of you should by any chance go 
over, you’d crash down a hundred feet.” 

“ We wouldn’t think of trying a glide off there,” 
laughed Vinton. “ At least, not for mine.” 

“ I know you wouldn’t,” said the doctor. 
“You’re not fools enough for that. But what I 
mean is, don’t back up that far to take a runner. 
You see, while you’re facing down into the wind, 
if a sudden gust should come, you can never tell, 
you know, it might catch the machine a certain way 
and topple you right down. You’ve got a good long 
slope here. Don’t go nearer than this now, will 
you?” 


ON LAKE CHAMPrAIN 


541 


Don’t worry, Doctor,” said Mac. 

** Well, I want you all to promise me. I’ve got 
to go down now and make up a report for the local 
council, and I want to be able to banish this from 
my mind. Do you all promise? Do you promise, 
Harry?” 

‘‘ Why me, in particular ? ” Harry laughed. 

No reason, only I happened to notice you stand- 
ing there.” 

Harry stood among the others, his hands in his 
pockets. ‘‘Of course, I promise,” said he. 

Red Deer watched the first flight. It carried 
Carpenter, the Hawks’ patrol leader, over one hun- 
dred feet down the slope, skimming the ground. 
Then the scoutmaster, apparently satisfied, went 
down to his tent. Presently, Nelson Pierce literally 
leaped into fame. He had been watching the man- 
ipulations of the others shrewdly, and now, with the 
benefit of what he had seen and a theory or two of 
his own, he took a good run and, balancing carefully, 
brought the forward edges up to a sharp angle. 
The downward slope of the hill and the upward 
coasting of the glider soon left at least thirty feet 
of space below him. 

“ Oh me, oh my ! ” shouted Howard Brent, as 
they ran down to be in at the finish. 

Nelson, maintaining his lateral balance by careful 
inclinations of his body to right and left, cut his way 
upward at a slight angle, with never a tremor of the 


34 ^ 


3B0Y SCOUTS 


planes, extending his momentum by holding a stiff, 
steady angle, until, about one hundred and fifty feet 
from the start and fifty feet from the ground, the 
attraction of gravitation began to assert itself and 
drew the glider and its passenger earthward. But 
the attraction of gravitation cannot have its own 
way with a glider going against the wind, and Nel- 
son coasted easily down not so very far from the 
foot of the hill. 

‘‘ That was fine ! ” said Bert. 

‘‘How was the weather up there, Nel?” asked 
Morrel. 

Harry tried it after that and made a good flight ; 
but he tried a spectacular rise, throwing his edges 
up to forty-five degrees, and consequently didn’t 
go so far. 

Instead of blowing his horn, Charlie Greer, wear- 
ing his apron, came up to see the show and summon 
them to supper. They made him get in and, amid 
loud cheering, he made a magnificent flight of eight 
feet. 

“ Great, Charlie ! ” shouted Vinton. 

“Charles, you’re a winner!” said Mac. 

“ Guess everybody’s tried it now,” said Walden. 

“Where’s Kid Lord?” piped up Tom. 

“ Here comes Brick Parks. Hey, Brick, where’s 
the Kid, anyway?” 

“ Stalking,” said Parks. “ Let’s try that thing, 
will you ? ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN S43 

Too late to-night. Bricky, old boy, but you can 
take a picture of it/’ 

Sun’s too low,” said Parks. 

They anchored the machine with ropes and 
stakes about twenty-five feet from the cliff, meaning 
to resume their operations after supper. 

The excitement of the trials over, Harry was 
miserable. He knew that Gordon, in his heart, 
would have liked to try the glider, and that it was 
just boyish pique that kept him away. He drew 
a mental picture of Gordon trudging alone in the 
woods, his trusty little camera under his arm, in 
hopeless quest of a beaver. He was sorry he hadn’t 
made other overtures and told him that there was 
next to no chance of finding a beaver short of many 
miles to the west. He told himself that he should 
have been more in earnest when he spoke to Gor- 
don, less independent, though it is hard to see how 
he could have said or done more. The more he 
thought, the more he blamed himself. He thought 
of something he would say to Gordon when he saw 
him. He would go up to him and say, “ Can’t we 
find a way. Kid?” and that would surely catch 
him. 

But he did not see Gordon, for Gordon did not 
appear at supper. Such things often happened, and 
Red Deer was not anxious, only annoyed. Brick 
Parks said that he and Gordon had separated down 
the stream, Gordon wishing to follow the water. 


344 


BOY SCOUTS 


He thought his quest of the elusive beaver might 
have taken him through that dank place below the 
hill. 

I bet he gets one,” said Vinton. Harry shook 
his head. 

But Gordon’s absence did not interrupt the air 
talk, though Harry had little to say. 

‘‘You see, boys,” said Red Deer,” as they ate, 
the great thing is to glide into the wind. If you 
do the other thing, you take your life into your 
hands.” 

Of course, the question of installing motive 
power was discussed, and Morrel caused a great 
laugh by his suggestion to purchase the Swan and 
use its engine for the glider. ‘‘ We could make the 
propeller with a couple of canoe paddles,” suggested 
Vinton. 

After the colors were down and the anthem had 
been sung, it was too late for gliding, for the dusk 
was lowering rapidly. It was decided to leave the 
glider where it was, at least till after camp-fire, to 
see if the night bade fair to be clear. Harry said 
he would go up and see if the stakes were secure, 
for the breeze was freshening up. He went up the 
hill in the dusk, feeling wretchedly unhappy and 
kicking stones to right and left, as he walked. They 
saw his slender figure silhouetted against the gray 
sky. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


345 

‘‘ Anything the matter with him ? ’’ some one 
asked. 

‘"No, surely not — why?” 

“ Seems kind of quiet, that^s all.” 

Harry looked at the stakes, pressed one a little 
farther down with his foot, and then went up and 
sat on the rock, looking admiringly at the graceful 
framework. There, beside him on the rock, were 
crudely graven the initials “ G. L.” Gordon’s fail- 
ure to show up at supper had amused him a little, 
it was so characteristic of him. He thought of the 
night he had waited under Dibble Mountain and 
how Gordon had communicated with him through 
the darkness. He looked down upon the dank 
stretch of land below him, under the cliff. The 
wind was blowing, as it had blown all day, up the 
hill. It was quite brisk, and he had to pull his hat 
down tight to keep it from blowing off. It was just 
right for gliding down the slope. Its direction 
could be plainly seen even in the land below (despite 
the windbreak of hill), where the reeds all leaned 
away from the cliff. 

As he watched the bending reeds, he noticed 
something which aroused his interest. It looked 
like some one standing in the midst of them. Then 
he realized that the figure must be kneeling, for it 
did not rise as high as the surrounding growths. 
What with the dusk, the distance, and the swaying 


346 


BOY SCOUTS 


of the reeds about it, he could only see it intermit- 
tently and indistinctly. But surely there was some 
one there, kneeling or stooping. He looked closer, 
concentrated his gaze, and shuddered, as a dreadful 
thought came to him. 

The figure was neither kneeling nor stooping. 
Nor was it standing. While he gazed, leveling all 
the strength of his vision upon it, a gust of wind 
blew his hat off, over the precipice, and the same 
gust blew the distant reeds far down, showing the 
figure clearly. He saw a spasmodic motion of an 
arm, grasping the reeds. It seemed to have no legs. 
It was nothing but the upper part of a person’s body, 
with two arms swinging frantically. Now the 
swampy growths stood upright and the figure was 
concealed. Presently they swayed again, far over, 
seeming to change color as they bent. And there 
was the figure — lower than before, its arms clutch- 
ing the reeds. As Harry watched, he was sure 
that he could see it sinking, slowly. Then the 
stump of head and chest and spreading arms was 
hidden in the reeds and swampy grass. 

He knew now what it meant. There must be 
quicksand there, and the wretched person was be- 
ing slowly drawn down to his death. A terrible 
fear gripped him. Parks had said that Gordon was 
going down there after a beaver! 

He lost not one second’s time. Always cool, al- 
ways level-headed, he was so now. And since he 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


347 


was not in a panic, neither work nor time was 
wasted. He ran down the slope to the glider, cut 
the ropes which held it, brought it around facing 
the cliff, got into it, and came up to the edge. He 
knew that what he was about to do had never been 
done but once, and that once was when the famous 
Lilienthal went crashing to his death. He was not 
going into the wind, he was going with it. But he 
gave not a thought to his own peril, he had to get 
out there at all costs. 

He waited for a gust of wind to part the reeds 
and swamp grass and show him the spot for which 
he should aim. Presently it came, and almost si- 
multaneously a frightful shriek from below reached 
his ears. Shuddering, he fixed his eyes on the 
spot, grasped the handle struts, lifted the machine, 
and plunged from the cliff. 

The instant he was off, he lowered himself until 
his armpits caught the struts, thus giving his body 
a longer and freer play. And that happened which 
always happens in such cases. A gust of wind 
caught the glider behind and threw it around. By 
luck, or instinct, or both, Harry had the plane on an 
even keel and was ready to counteract the lurch. 
If it had been at either angle, it would have crashed 
to the ground. As it was, he kept his equilibrium 
by keeping his head. And he had now the full 
pendulum length of his body to control his balance. 

His object was to coast down. But his position 


348 


BOY SCOUTS 


in the air was most precarious, for he had not the 
sustaining power of the wind blowing against him. 
On the contrary, coming from behind, it continu- 
ally upset his steering and balancing calculations, 
tilting his planes this way and that, and once almost 
turning the machine over. Once he found himself 
facing the cliff and sailing straight toward it, till 
by a series of sudden jerks of his body he managed 
to haul the glider about. The wind died for a few 
moments, and free from its diverting and dangerous 
influence, he brought his forward edges slightly 
downward and the machine coasted obediently. If 
the calm would hold for just a few minutes, he 
thought desperately, he might make a safe landing. 
And it did hold, just as the moon had come out 
once before to help this boy who knew how to help 
himself. 

Down from the turmoil of choppy, rebounding 
air, out from lurching and spinning like a top, came 
the glider, the long pendulum of Harry’s body hang- 
ing loosely in it, now bending this way, now that, 
now forward, now back, in assured and masterful 
control; and, obedient to the indomitable will and 
skill and courage that held it as with a tight rein, 
it coasted easily downward, straight for the spot 
he was aiming for. It had reared, it had lurched, 
it had turned. And now, like the horse that rec- 
ognizes that it has met its master, it meekly obeyed. 
If the back wind held off for just a moment more, he 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


349 


might be in time. And the back wind, being a true 
sport, did hold off, just to see how this lithe, slender 
boy would manage it. 

The glider came to earth, pulling the tall swamp 
grass like a great comb, and settled its broad area 
upon the treacherous quicksand. Harry had drawn 
himself up and stood, stooping, between the long 
planes, looking this way and that, and calling. The 
thought that he might be too late almost unnerved 
him. In his descent, he had seen nothing of the 
figure, but had headed for a tree which stood near 
by. And his alighting had been accurate, for not 
two feet from the plane he now saw the head, with 
two arms above it. Evidently the lateral resistance 
of the arms had been lost through weakness, for 
they were almost perpendicular. 

Grasping one of the stanchions with one hand, he 
leaned over and seized the sinking figure by the col- 
lar. Then, grasping as much of its clothing as he 
could in his hand, he pulled with all his might and 
main. He succeeded in lifting the boy the least 
bit. Then he separated one of the guy wires and 
with it lashed himself to the stanchion. Leaning 
over, and exerting all the strength of both arms, 
he succeeded in slowly raising the buried body. It 
was a terrific tussle, but he had made up his mind 
to do it, and he did it. J 

A few minutes later, panting, exhausted, almost 
on the verge of collapse himself, he was kneeling 


350 


BOY SCOUTS 


over the prostrate form which lay on the lower 
plane, and wiping the mud from its face. The eyes 
looked up, staring, terrified, into his. 

‘‘ Who — what is it ?/’ said the voice, weakly, half 
consciously. 

‘‘It’s just Harry, Kid — I found a way, that’s 
all.’’ 



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CHAPTER XXIII 


HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 

‘^It’s going to be a great day/’ observed Mac. 
“What was it the history book said, Gordon? 
' The day of their departure dawned brisk and 
fair’ ?” 

“ Yes/^ said Gordon. 

“ Didn’t it say something about every soul being 
scared? Surely it did.” 

“ It said every soul was prepared,” corrected Gor- 
don, with dignity. 

“ Well, Ethan Allen and his crowd hadn’t any- 
thing on us,” Mac answered. 

Indeed they had not, to judge from appear- 
ances, for nearly everything which had constituted 
the camp and made it homelike had been loaded 
into the gallant Swan, which rocked gently at its 
moorings. The glider, after a triumphant career 
of record making and breaking, had been taken 
apart, first submissively posing for innumerable 
snapshots. There was talk of awarding to the 
graceful flier a gnome motor, some time or other, 
and it was agreed that meanwhile if any enterpris- 
351 


'352 


BOY SCOUTS 


ing shopkeeper in Oakwood cared to exhibit it ‘‘ as 
the glider in which Harry Arnold had — 

‘‘ Sh-h-h, here he comes/’ said one of the scouts, 
in an undertone ; “ he’d be wild if he heard you pro- 
posing that.” 

You’re not going to trust this precious cargo to 
Morrel, are you, Doctor ? ” said Harry. 

I thought I’d let Howard go along with him to 
tend the engine. Morrel can steer.” 

‘Hf you want her to go to the left, Til,” said 
Harry, soberly, ‘‘ you just pull on this rope, and for 
the right — ” 

“Think you can remember that. Til?” said Roy 
Carpenter. 

“ You fellows make me tired,” grumbled Til ford 
Morrel. 

The Swan, on her last voyage under scout aus- 
pices, went majestically down the stream into the 
broad expanse of the lake, and headed for Port 
Henry. Here she waited for the rest of the troop, 
and then the greater part of their camp property 
was sent on to Oakwood to herald their approach. 
But they kept enough for bivouac camping, in case 
they should decide to tramp as far as Albany before 
taking the train. 

If you were to search to-day for the spot where 
the Oakwood boys camped all summer, you would 
find no distinguishing mark, no defacing of ground 
or tree, no unsightly can or battered paper box, — 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


353 


nothing unless, perchance, the initials G. L/’ ob- 
scurely graven here and there. Thus the scout 
comes and goes, and none shall be the wiser, — ex- 
cept, perhaps, another scout to whose observant eyes 
a wisp of grass may hold a meaning, and who sees 
where others see not. 

Their camping paraphernalia reduced to a mini- 
mum, the Oakwood troop crowded into the Swan, 
a borrowed dory accommodating the overflow, and 
crossed the lake at Port Henry, landing at Chimney 
Point. From here they could look across the nar- 
row channel formed by the Crown Point peninsula, 
and see the ruins of the famous old fortress on the 
end of the clumsy thumb of land. The sight of it 
fired Gordon with enthusiasm. 

Oh, it's going to be great ! " he cried. ‘‘ Can 
we get down opposite Ticonderoga to-night. Red 
Deer ? ” 

“If you're good," said Mac. 

At Chimney Point they returned the Swan to its 
rightful owner, who agreed to row the borrowed 
dory across to its owner, and then they started south- 
ward along the Vermont shpre. 

It was, as Mac had observed, a great day. A 
brisk breeze rippled the waters of the lake, and rus- 
tled musically among the leaves. 

“Well, who's going to be Ethan Allen?" asked 
Red Deer. “ Here we are, a couple of miles down 
the line, and don't know yet who's leader. Harry, 


S54 


BOY SCOUTS 


this beautiful historic revival is yours, so I guess 
you’re old Ethan.” 

“ No, that’s Kid’s job,” laughed Harry, putting 
his arm over Gordon’s shoulder as they tramped 
along. 

‘‘ G. Lord, or no one,” shouted Mac. 

“ G. Lord for mine ! ” added Brick Parks. 

“If Kid Lord isn’t Ethan Allen, I won’t play,” 
shouted John Walden. 

Gordon grinned from ear to ear. “ All right, 
only you’ll have to be Seth Warner, Harry.” 

“If you think I’m going to turn around and lead 
this outfit back to Crown Point in order to play Seth 
Warner, you’ll have to think again, my fraptious 
boy. If Ethan Allen Lord leads us forth to victory 
this night, I think that will be about enough. Have 
you got the speech all pat ? ” 

“ ‘ In the name of the great Jehovah and the Con- 
tinental Congress ! ’ ” shouted Gordon, striking an 
attitude. 

“ Great ! ” said Charlie Greer. 

“ Did you notice how I rolled my r’s ? ” asked 
Gordon. 

“ We certainly did — you’re the only original ! ” 

“ That’s nothing. I can do it even better than 
that.” 

Harry, smiling, walked over to Vinton, who was 
carrying several staves and a fishing-rod wound 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 355 

up in a piece of light tenting. Fumbling in this 
bundle, he pulled out a battered, rusty sword. 

‘‘ Here you are, old man,” he said, handing it to 
Gordon. ‘‘ You want to do it right, you know.” 

“Where'd he get that?” asked Langford, sur- 
prised. 

‘‘ Don’t ask me,” said Dan Swift. 

Oh, cracky, where’d you get it, Harry ? ” Gor- 
don cried. 

“ Oh, cracky, I jiist happened to see it in Port 
Henry when we were making the glider,” laughed 
Harry. 

Gordon grew sober. 

‘‘Now you’re the genuine, warranted article,” 
said Harry, falling back and walking with the scout- 
master. 

“ How did you happen to buy that, Harry? ” Dr. 
Brent asked in a low voice. 

“ Oh, I just happened to see it in the blacksmith’s. 
I thought it would hit him in the right spot.” 

Red Deer made no comment. He knew Harry. 

In a few minutes Gordon fell behind, and he and 
Harry walked together. 

“Harry, it’s a James Dandy! I — I don’t see 
how you happened to think to buy it.” 

“ Oh, I just happened to be in Berry’s getting 
some steel bent.” 

“ Then it was when — while — during — ” 


356 


BOY SCOUTS 


“Yes, it was when, while, during,” said Harry; 
“ and you're supposed to wave it over your head 
just the minute you clap your eyes on Mr. E. C. 
Wade — see?” 

“ Oh, but it’ll be great ! ” said Gordon. 

A day’s tramp southward along the Vermont 
shore brought them opposite Ticonderoga about 
dusk. Far inland, when the view was unobstructed, 
they could see the hazy outline of the Green Moun- 
tains, and across on the New York side, Harry 
pointed out the frowning, shaggy head of old Bul- 
wagga, and farther on, the less forbidding height 
of Dibble Mountain, from whose summit they had 
seen the smoke which lured them northward only 
to find a heap of ashes. 

“But you found us just the same, didn’t you, 
Harry?” said Mac. 

“ Did you think he wouldn’t ? ” said Gordon, con- 
temptuously. (It was noticeable that he did not 
say we; he said he.') “ He found you right at the 

biological moment, too.” 

“ Psychological,” corrected Red Deer, smiling. 

“ He’s all right, is Harry boy,” said Charlie 
Greer. 

“ So’s G. Lord,” said some one else. 

“ Harry,” said the doctor, “ this is private land 
we’re coming to. Guess we’ll have to make a long 
detour. It wouldn’t do for a party of scouts to be 
caught trespassing.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


357 


To the doctor’s surprise, however, Harry vaulted 
the low fence, apparently oblivious of the sign 
which said, ‘‘ Positively No Trespassing.” “ Come 
ahead,” said he, looking back. 

‘‘ Isn’t he the bold thing? ” said Nelson Pierce. 

A man came down through the grounds with a 
menacing aspect. ** Don’t yez know how to read 
plain English?” he shouted. 

No, but I can understand plain Irish,” said 
Harry. “ Hello, Pat, how are you ? ” 

The man uttered a laugh to crack the heavens. 

Sure, and ’tis yourself, is it? And Oi’m that glad 
to see ye ! ” 

“ Are we pinched ? ” laughed Harry. 

‘‘Ye are that, the whole Wild West crew of yez! 
Fetch yer friends in here till I have thim fined ten 
dollars each. Did yez have yer supper yit? ’Tis 
a lie, ye didn’t — come into the house.” 

Gordon was already at Harry’s side, and the rest 
followed. 

“ Where’s the folks ? ” asked Harry. 

“ Gone. The place is closed up an’ I’m left here 
to kape it open. The sarvants went to Oakwood to 
tidy up a bit a week ago, and the Mister and Missus 
went this morning with Master Penfield. It’s a 
ghrand place they’ve there. Mister Arnold. Me and 
the old woman goes down with our bandbox in the 
tourin’ car with Jimmie, Mister Roger’s man, this 


358 BOY SCOUTS 

day week, praise be, for ’tis as slow as mud here 
now.” 

‘‘How are they? All well?” asked Harry. 

“ All well, and waitin’ to get their two hands on 
ye — specially the girrls, f orbye a letter ye sint Mas- 
ter Penfield. Sure, he made a raid on the establish- 
mint. Two fancy hats, no less, must Miss Marjorie 
hand over, and there’s not so much as a wicker chair 
left in the house. Come up and set down in wan 
o’ thim — the whole o’ yez ! ” 

“Was the aeroplane a success?” Gordon asked. 

“ Faith, why should it not be, with the ind of a 
tin-dollar fountain pen into it, and poor Mr. Dan- 
forth, him writin’ with the stub of a lead pencil? It 
kin carry three passengers, seventeen-year-locusts, 
would ye believe it, and it wint acrost the lake ! ” 

“ Fine ! ” said Harry. 

The place seemed indeed deserted, with Mr. Dan- 
forth’s genial face not in evidence. But Pat and 
his good wife proved very cordial and hospitable 
substitutes. Pat protested that if Mr. Danforth 
were to hear of their passing the house without ac- 
cepting its entertainment, he, Pat, would be per- 
emptorily discharged and denounced every day 
thereafter. So they dined luxuriously under the 
trees on the beautiful lawn, on a variety of dainty 
and toothsome odds and ends from the still well- 
stocked larder. 

After dark they went on down the shore, with 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


359 


many acknowledgments to the hearty chauffeur, 
who seemed to have a full measure of the genuine 
Danforth hospitality. “ I was chauffeur here long 
befoor there was anny autimobiles, or befoor they'd 
the place at all," he told them, as they left; “and 
he's the ghrand man, but I can't larrn him to man- 
age a boat." 

At nine o'clock that night, the Oakwood scouts 
sprawled on the grassy, sloping shore, just opposite 
old Fort Ticonderoga. A mile or so behind the fort 
lay the sleeping village. Behind the waiting scouts 
rose the historic Mount Independence; and across 
the lake there glimmered a quivering yellow band, 
the light of a camp-fire just beyond the fort. 

“ Wonder what time they'll turn in ? " said Roy 
Carpenter. “ Christopher, but that light looks 
cheerful 1 " 

The old fort, partially restored, lay at the end of 
a roundish cape projecting from the New York 
shore, and here the water flowed through the nar- 
rowest channel in all the lake's broadening and nar- 
rowing path. It was a spot forever associated with 
the good old War of Independence. Right here, 
where the Oakwood scouts now waited for the light 
to die, had the redoubtable Allen given his boister- 
ous followers a final harangue, generously offering 
to release any one who lacked the courage to follow 
him across. 

The boys had not been able to secure a boat any- 


360 


BOY SCOUTS 


where in the vicinity, and here they were handi- 
capped in a way that Ethan Allen had not been. 
For that intrepid leader had, to tell the truth, “ at- 
tached all the boats along the shore — in the name 
of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress. 
This, of course, the new Green Mountain Boys 
could not very well do; so Harry suggested recon- 
noitering alone, bringing back, if possible, one of 
the enemy’s canoes. The proposition was one after 
Ethan Allen’s own heart. They rigged a make- 
shift raft by lashing together three logs which lay 
on a ruined pier near by, and spent an hour fashion- 
ing a rough sculling oar with a scout staff and a 
piece of narrow board. 

After the fire had died sufficiently to convince 
them that the Albany troop had gone to bed, Harry 
boarded the raft, and managed to work his way 
across the channel, which was here about one third 
of a mile across. He kept well clear of the illumi- 
nated area, and crawled cautiously up the sloping 
shore, testing the ground before each step. It was 
almost pitch dark, but on the little eminence, a 
hundred feet or so from the shore, a black, irregular 
bulk could be seen, behind which was a fast-dying 
light. Undoubtedly that was where they spent the 
evenings. And he felt equally certain that they 
slept within the fortress walls. He crept up the 
hill. There was not a sound. He listened, and 
suddenly became conscious of voices, speaking in 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 361 

an undertone. Then, two figures, walking together, 
emerged from the darkness, crossed the band of 
dying light, and were engulfed again in the night 
He followed them by their voices. He could not 
hear what they were saying, but presently one spoke 
in a louder tone, from which he gathered that they 
had separated. He crept closer until he was within 
earshot of steady footfalls. These he followed, si- 
lently, stealthily, clutching every stone and brittle 
twig between his toes. Soon a figure took hazy out- 
line against the background of less black water. It 
seemed to be headed for the shore. 

Harry undid the knot of his scarf and took it off, 
crunching the soft fabric into a wad. Then he 
stole forward, and with simultaneous movements 
threw one arm about the walking figure and with the 
other hand stuffed the wadded scarf into its mouth 
and held it in. Then, tripping the boy by a dex- 
trous movement of his foot, he let him gently to 
the ground. As the sentinel was taken completely 
by surprise, it was all done in a second. 

‘‘ Hello, Atwell, you Laughing Hyena,” he whis- 
pered. ‘‘ It’s your old college chum, Harry Arnold, 
— don’t get scared now; here, look at me,” and he 
struck a match, holding it near his face. “ You’re 
supposed to be gagged — see? There’s a great 
game on for to-night. We’re going to take the 
fort and have the laugh on Mr. Wade. I’m going 


362 


BOY SCOUTS 


to take this wad out of your mouth, but understand 
you’re supposed to be gagged — you mustn’t do or 
say a thing — understand ? ” 

Atwell nodded, and the gag was removed. 

You’re a wonder, Arnold,” said he. ‘‘ My, but 
you had me scared for a minute ! ” 

“ Don’t tell me a thing,” interrupted Harry. 
‘‘You’re gagged and you can’t talk. I’m going to 
tie this scarf round your neck, and that’ll mean 
you’re out of the game — you’re a gagged sentinel 
— see ? Don’t spoil it now, will you ? ” 

He felt sure that the gag about Atwell’s neck 
would be as effectual as one in his mouth, and he 
wasted no more time on that bitter enemy, for there 
was another sentinel to be looked after. This 
turned out to be none other than the redoubtable 
Frankie, who was easy game. Harry gagged him 
with his handkerchief, marched him down to At- 
well, who was sitting on a rock, and left him to re- 
cover from his fright and to receive from his fel- 
low-sentinel a more complete explanation. 

“ Remember, you’re out of the game, Frank,” 
whispered Harry, as he started down toward the 
shore. In half an hour he was back among his own 
troop with a canoe. There were other canoes, but 
he had managed to find only one paddle. 

“ One canoe’s all we want, anyway, Harry,” said 
Gordon, laughing gleefully over his report of the 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


363 


gagged sentinels; ‘‘because the day must be just 
breaking when we enter the fort and we must go in 
small boat-loads to stretch the time out.” 

Between one and two o’clock in the morning, they 
began their desperate and hazardous move against 
King George’s proud minions, as Giordon called 
them. 

“ Say, Atwell’s an awful nice fellow for a red- 
coat,” said Harry, as the first three scouts, Vinton, 
Carpenter, and Brent, were pushed off with many 
reminders of the need of absolutely silent paddling. 

“ I have naught but contempt for him, and for 
that redcoat tyrant, Wade, as well,” said Gordon. 

“ Ay, let us think of the cruel Stamp Act to-night, 
and the Boston Massacre, and — and — a few other 
things,” said Red Deer. “ Colonel Gordon Allen 
speaks what is in all our hearts ! ” 

“ You’ll like Mr. Wade, Red Deer,” said Harry. 
“ He’s great. His troop thinks the world of him.” 

“ His tinseled uniform was paid for by poor 
colonial farmers and honest pioneers,” said Gordon, 
fiercely. 

“ On the level ? ” said George Conway. 

“ He wore a golf suit the last time I saw him,” 
said Harry. 

“ Now, Harry, I can see you’re going to spoil it 
all. The first thing you’ll do, you’ll go and shake 
hands with him before — ” 

“ Never ! ” said Harry. “ Shake the hand that 


BOY SCOUTS 


364 

— er — something or other — mm — squeezes — > 
pinches — er — an unjust tax — er — ” 

That’s rotten, Harry ! ” said Brick Parks. 

‘‘ Awful,” commented Red Deer. 

That tramples on our unavailable rights,” 
growled Gordon. 

‘‘ Inalienable rights, sure — that’s what his hand 
tramples on — if it tramples at all.” 

I meant his foot,” said Gordon. 

‘‘ Well, then, I won’t shake his foot, either,” said 
Harry. 

They sat close to the shore, and listened for the 
sound of the returning canoe. 

‘‘ Guess they’re pinched,” suggested Bert. 

But soon the canoe glided silently shoreward with 
the faintest ripple. 

“Where did you land them?” Harry asked Roy, 
who brought the canoe back. 

“Just in the shadow of the fortress. They’re 
playing mumbly-peg with the gagged sentinels.” 

“ What’s that ? ” said Gordon. 

“ Never fear,” said Roy. “ ’Tis not so. Good- 
man Brent and Goodman Vinton are playing 
mumbly-peg with each other near the shore. We 
heard the gagged sentinels talking together a few 
paces off.” 

“ Chewing the rag,” ventured Matthew Reed. 

“ Now, don’t begin that, Matty,” said Harry. 
“ You’ve been so good up to now.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


365 


‘‘ Who goes next ? ” Red Deer asked. 

Goodman Walden, Goodman Morrel — ” 

‘‘Better send Morrel with the last load, Kid,^' 
said Harry. “ He’ll be sure to talk when he gets 
over.” 

“ Don’t call me Kid ! Is that what you call re- 
spect for your leader ? ” 

There was no need for hurry, for they did not 
wish to land the last boat-load until dawn and they 
preferred to make a number of trips rather than 
crowd the canoe. “ For,” as Gordon said, quoting 
Mr. Wade, “ this thing must be going on right un- 
der his very nose all night.” 

So they went over in small lots and did the whole 
job in eight trips, having met with no mishap and 
made no sound which could possibly have been heard 
within the fort. The day was just breaking. The 
two gagged sentinels, faithfully silent, came down 
to the shore and stood meekly watching the group. 

“ Hello, Kid Lord,” ventured Frankie, in a cau- 
tious whisper. 

Gordon gave him a scathing look. “ Follow, my 
brave fellows,” said he. 

“ Did you hear that ? ” said Brick Parks. 

“ Come on, follow,” said Mac. 

Gordon, with the gigantic, rusty sword thrown 
over his shoulder like a musket, trudged up the slope, 
his gallant company following after, and Red Deer, 
smiling and cleaning his gold specs, bringing up the 


BOY SCOUTS 


366 

rear. It was a formidable array. There, on the 
summit of the grassy height, stood the old fort, 
rather small and un forbidding to have such a bloody, 
but glorious, history. For many years, it had been 
no more than a roofless ruin, but the partial restora- 
tion had been studious and faithful, on the outside, 
at least. Yes, it was, in all essentials, the same 
old fort that Montcalm had held against the British 
in the bloody French and Indian War, that Ethan 
Allen had taken, and that General Burgoyne had 
retaken. 

The great portal stood open, and the intrepid 
leader marched boldly in. The first gray light of 
morning coming through the score of port-holes 
showed the forms of the occupants, each patrol 
sleeping in a separate corner of the enclosure. Here 
was a slight divergence from historic truth, for Cap- 
tain Delaplace had slept upstairs. But there was 
no upstairs now, and Mr. Wade reposed comfortably 
on a balsam mattress among the Ravens. But was 
not the feat already accomplished? Had not the 
sentinels been overpowered and gagged? And had 
not the brave Green Mountain Boys crossed the lake 
in small boat-loads under the very nose of the 
haughty Delaplace? 

Go and poke him with your sword, Kid,'' whis- 
pered Howard Brent. 

‘‘ Better tickle him," said Mac. “Jumping jimi- 
nies, how those redcoats can snore ! " 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 367 

‘‘Ahem/’ said Gordon, gruffly, not knowing ex- 
actly how to proceed. 

“You’ll wake the wrong one,” suggested Red 
Deer ; “ better give the captain a poke, Gordon.” 

So Gordon stepped up and prodded the Albany 
scoutmaster with his sword. Mr. Wade immedi- 
ately sat up, rubbing his eyes. “ That you, Frank ? ” 
said he, sleepily. “You — is it?” 

“ Come down — er — I mean, get — rise up — 
you crawling tyrant’s minion ! ” shouted Gordon. 
“ I demand the surrender of this fort ! ” 

“ There must be some mistake,” said Mr. Wade, 
rising sleepily and rubbing his eyes. “We have 
permission to camp here.” 

“ We scorn the warrant of King George! ” Gor- 
don answered, “ and denounce your commission — 
and — er — don’t we ? ” he ended, turning to Harry. 

“ Sure we do,” said Harry. 

By this time nearly every scout was sitting up, 
staring. Mr. Wade was beginning to smile. 

“ I demand the surrender of this fort. Captain 
Delaplace Wade,” said Gordon, waving the old 
sword, “ in the name of the great Jehovah and the 
Continental Congress! Here I stand with near a 
score of sturdy Green Mountain patriots at my 
back. Your sentinels lie gagged. We have come 
thither — I mean hither — in one of your own 
canoes ! ” 

“ It’s a bum canoe, too,” said Mac, 


368 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ Silence, Goodman Mac,’' said Gordon. 

“We have come here in the name of Liberty, 
under the very shadow of your — er — wait a min- 
ute — your — er — unguarded walls. Do you ad- 
mit that you were talking through your hat that 
night at camp-fire ? ” 

Mr. Wade gave one look at Dr. Brent, who was 
nearly bursting with laughter. Then he went over 
to a corner, picked up a scout staff and handed it re- 
spectfully to Gordon. “ I surrender,” said he, 
laughing, “ but not unconditionally. The brave 
Green Mountain Boys must become our guests.” 

In a minute all was laughing pandemonium, and 
introductions were as thick in the old fortress as 
bullets in the days of the gallant Montcalm. Red 
Deer and the tyrant Wade chatted in a way to sug- 
gest downright treason on the part of one or the 
other. A1 Wilson, Atwell, and Brownell hobnobbed 
with Ethan Allen, as if he were a long-lost brother. 
Frankie and Giant George followed Harry Arnold 
about, so that it looked suspiciously as if Harry 
would turn Tory before the day was over. Walter 
Lee displayed his new canoe to Harry in a way to 
suggest that the two might have held some treason- 
able intercourse in times past. But worst of all, and 
enough to make old King George turn in his royal 
grave, what did the Green Mountain Boys do but 
agree to remain with the proud redcoats for several 
days and then join them in a canoe trip up the beau- 
tiful Lake George! 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


369 


The redcoat Wade’s surrender was complete. He 
admitted that they had done just what he had said 
could not be done, and that, so far as the transport- 
ing of the company and the overpowering of the 
sentinels were concerned, it was true to history, as 
nearly as history could be relied upon, when it 
couldn’t agree with itself. 

If we were to follow these thirty-odd boys as their 
flotilla of canoes glided up the placid bosom of the 
beautiful lake on their homeward way, there would 
be no space for the one or two incidents which have 
yet to be told. The two troops parted at the head 
of the lake, where the Oakwood boys took the train 
for New York. 

While they were bidding good-by to the Albany 
scouts, with many plans for a joint camp the next 
summer, Frankie confided a dark secret in Harry’s 
ear. Atwell and Brownell sent me into the lean- 
to for the bottle of citronella the other night, the 
mosquitoes were so thick.” 

‘‘Yes? They say it’s great stuff to rub on your 
face,” answered Harry. 

“Of course, it was dark,” said Frankie. 

“ Was, hey ? ” said Harry, carelessly. 

“ I brought them out a bottle of ink,” Frankie 
concluded. “ They didn’t find it out till after they’d 
used it.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


MR. DANFORTH HAS HIS WAY 

At Albany a boy boarded the train with a huge 
basket of sandwiches, each neatly wrapped in par- 
affin paper, and Red Deer successfully negotiated 
with him for his entire stock. As a scout never 
throws papers about wantonly, either indoors or out, 
it fell out that these papers were held by their vari- 
ous possessors until Gordon conceived the notion of 
gathering them up. 

‘‘ What you up to now. Kid? ” asked Tom Lang- 
ford, as Gordon stopped at his seat. 

‘‘ Tickets, please,” said Gordon, grabbing the 
paraffin paper and passing on. 

‘‘ Playing conductor, Gordon ? ” Dr. Brent asked 
cheerfully, as Gordon passed. 

But it turned out that this was Gordon’s first ma- 
neuver in the direction of one of his own particular, 
genuine, original good turns (for not even Black 
Wolf himself, with all respect to him, could stand 
up with G. Lord in this particular phase of boy 
scouting). He hoped that no one but himself 
would remember the law which had just gone into 
effect in the State of New Jersey, prohibiting the 

370 


BOY SCOUTS 


371 


public drinking-cup in railroad trains and elsewhere, 
and he made no answer to the jocular remarks of 
the boys, as he carefully folded the papers and 
tucked them away in his pocket. 

When they reached New York and boarded the 
Oakwood train, there was the usual cooler filled 
with ice-cold water, but no glass. The day was 
very warm, and only one or two of the passengers 
carried drinking-cups. Then Gordon, in his ele- 
ment, went through the car, deftly rolling his par- 
affin papers into little cornucopias, and handing them 
with a word of explanation to the astonished pas- 
sengers. 

“ I never even knew there was such a law,” re- 
marked one old gentleman, to his companion. 

“ They’re a wide-awake lot — those Boy Scouts,” 
his friend replied. 

“ Thank you so very much,” said a young lady, 
taking the makeshift cup. “ I’m dreadfully thirsty, 
too — you’re a public benefactor.” 

‘‘ Let me fill it for you,” said Gordon, grinning 
delightedly. As he handed it to her, the train pulled 
into Oakwood, and before he had refilled it for her 
to enjoy a second draught, every member of the 
troop had left the car, and the train was puffing out 
of the station. 

“Hurry up, my boy, train’s starting,” the old 
gentleman called cheerily after him ; “ you’ll have to 
jump.” 


372 


BOY SCOUTS 


That’s nothing,” Gordon answered, as he swung 
off. 

Thus it was that Master Gordon Lord, Scout, 
missed his train by stopping to do a good turn, when 
he started away, and almost missed his station by 
doing another one, when he came home. The good 
turns had not lessened his pleasure in the least ; one 
of them had opened the way for a variety of ad- 
ventures, and, as he later remarked to a gentleman 
representing the National Council, who was visit- 
ing Oakwood, and to whom he had “ recounted his 
adventures,” ‘‘ The more you do of them, the more 
fun you have, and oh, cracky, I’m glad I met Miss 
Leslie that first morning! ” 

The mention of the national councilman leads us, 
by a short cut, to an important event, but in order to 
get to it we must take a running jump over another 
one. 

It was a great day when a score or more of youth- 
ful inventors and a very fair audience of adults be- 
sides gathered on the golf links of the Oakwood 
Field Club to see the trials for the aviation cup 
which the Oakwood News had offered. The golf- 
ers stopped their play in honor of the occasion, and 
the contestants on the tennis courts laid down their 
racquets and wandered over to the field. Even so 
grouchy a character as old Cobb, the club steward, 
had to leave his accustomed duties and loiter out to 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


373 


the field as if he really didn't care what was going 
on, but just happened to be ambling in that direction. 
His half-interested manner deceived no one, and his 
arrival was hailed by a score of voices : 

“ Don't let yourself get excited, Mr. Cobb." 

“ This is what Mr. Cobb has been counting on for 
a month." 

Give Mr. Cobb a front seat." 

‘‘ Coin' to have an air race with those things ? " 
Cobb finally condescended to grumble, though he 
knew perfectly what was afoot. 

No, we're going to have a swimming match," 
said a High School boy. 

“ Humph," said Cobb. 

Mr. Carson, the manual-training teacher in the 
High School, was on hand with half a dozen boys 
whose aeroplanes had been entered, and a good 
many more, whose aeroplanes were not entered, but 
whose lungs were in good condition to cheer. Will 
Garret, son of a local architect, was there with a per- 
fect model of the Van Anden machine. Howard 
Brent, Matthew Reed, Ben McConnell, and Tom 
Langford had each entered a model. The local 
Y. M. C. A. had its aviators too, who had brought 
their several machines. 

There was one other contestant, besides. He sat 
in a big touring-car which was drawn up among sev- 
eral other vehicles, — an odd, pale little fellow, all 
nerves and excitement. He lived in the great stone 


374 


BOY SCOUTS 


mansion on the hill, and he was not very well known 
in Oakwood yet. He seemed a very little boy to 
live in such a big house and to sit in such a big car. 

“ There are some dandy ones there,” he said to 
the burly chauffeur, who sat beside him. 

There’s none of ’em has flown acrost Lake 
Champlain, at all,” the loyal chauffeur answered. 

Has there. Mister Arrnold ? ” 

Harry, who sat on the long step of the car, looked 
up and laughed. He had gone about the field in his 
quiet way looking at the dainty little models, some 
of which were masterpieces of clever construction. 
He had handled Will Garret’s silver-painted flier 
and praised it. He had sized up the graceful mono- 
planes made under Mr. Carson’s competent direc- 
tion. Then he had walked over to the auto and rue- 
fully examined the little aeroplane that Penfield held. 
It was not very well finished. The sticks of the 
motor base were held together with the cap of a 
fountain pen, by way of a ferrule, and Harry rec- 
ognized various other results of his own suggestions. 
The alarm works were bound rather far forward, 
and several strands of live, red elastic hung slack 
between the little striking bar and the propeller, 
which was in the rear. The clockwork power was 
communicated to the propeller by a flat-linked brass 
chain. This whole mechanism was mounted be- 
neath two planes, monoplane fashion, thirty-eight 
inches long and ten inches in width. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


375 


Harry examined it closely. The fact is, he was 
anxious. He could not bear to think of Penfield’s 
disappointment, but he feared that, after all, this 
novel device would prove impracticable. 

Suddenly, the Oakwood band, which had been 
playing, stopped and the voice of Billy Carter, the 
club’s gardener, rose above the buzz of conversa- 
tion. 

‘‘ Hurrah for Billy Carter ! ” shouted a dozen 
boys. 

It took Billy a few minutes to down the testi- 
monials to his own popularity, and then he made his 
announcement. 

The first contestant for the Oakwood News 
Aviation Cup is Henry Archer, flying model of 
Santos-Dumont’s monoplane. La Demoiselle/' 

Archer stepped up to the chalk-line, winding his 
propeller. Holding his machine steady, and point- 
ing it slightly upward, he sent it forward. It 
lurched and fluttered to the ground. He picked it 
up and disappeared into the laughing crowd. There 
was no need to measure his flight. 

“Matthew Reed, of ist Oakwood Troop, Boy 
Scouts,” shouted Billy, consulting a memorandum, 
“ flying miniature reproduction of Antoinette 
model.” 

For a moment the cry of the Hawks and the 
hand-clap of the Beavers filled the air. Matthew 
wound his propeller till the elastic band was knotted. 


376 


BOY SCOUTS 


then let it fly. Amid much cheering it sailed about 
one hundred feet, then fluttered down. The dis- 
tance was officially marked at 92^4 feet. Then 
came a Bleriot model; then a Cody biplane, which 
looked as if it had been fashioned from a box kite. 
Both fell short of Matthew’s record. Then Tom 
Langford stepped up with his little willow-framed, 
silk-covered, swallow-tailed affair, and sent it glid- 
ing over the course. It crept upward at a gentle 
angle, never swerving, exhausted its power in air 
and coasted easily downward. 

“ Two hundred and ten feet,” called Billy, and 
referred to his paper. 

‘‘ William Ormond, of Oakwood High School, 
flying monoplane of his own design, clockwork 
power.” 

The boy stepped up to the line, winding his motor. 
The graceful little craft darted forward, its propel- 
ler spinning. Its flight was steady and its descent 
slow. It dropped about two hundred and eighteen 
feet from the line. 

“ They can’t beat that,” some one said. 

‘‘ That’s very ingenious,” remarked another. 

“ William Garret, of Oakwood High School, fly- 
ing modified reproduction of Van Anden biplane.” 

William stepped up, holding high in air the neatest 
model that had been shown. Its frame was of dowel 
sticks, its covering made from a silk umbrella, and 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


377 


the contrast of the black silk and the silver-painted 
frame gave it a unique and attractive appearance. 
It was trussed up with a veritable network of fine 
wiring, and its planes were flexed to perfection with 
the pliant ribs of a lady’s fan. Its two propellers, 
red and highly polished, shone in the bright sun- 
light. It was whispered about that William’s father 
had had something to do with this, and the little 
craft looked well worthy of a skilled and practiced 
hand. Gordon walked over to the touring-car and 
sat on the step beside Harry. 

Looks pretty slick, doesn’t she, Kid ? ” said 
Harry. 

And she went ‘‘pretty slick,” too. When both 
propellers had been wound tight, the beautiful little 
model was started on its aerial excursion. For fully 
one hundred and fifty feet it cut its way upward and 
onward, amid loud cheering. Harry watched it 
critically. Its long strands of elastic band, fully two 
feet in length, extended its power over a longer in- 
terval of time than that of any craft thus far. And 
its rigidity and proportions gave it wonderful buoy- 
ancy. It had passed the alighting place of every 
previous flier when, glittering in the sunlight, its 
propellers slowing down and its elastics hanging 
slack, it coasted downward at a long angle. Its 
course had been straight as an arrow, and it had 
covered four hundred and one feet. 

Following came several crank devices, none of 


378 


BOY SCOUTS 


which made much of a showing. Then Announcer 
Billy seemed to be puzzling over his schedule. 

‘‘ What’s the matter, Billy ? ” the boys called. 

“ Struck a snag, Billy ? ” 

“Try hard, Billy — there you go ! ” 

“Master Penfield Danforth, of the ist Oakwood 
Troop, Boy Scouts, flying the — a — model of his 
own design — propelled by the Cham — the 
Cham — ” 

“Once more, Billy — three strikes out!” 

“ — the Champastic — Torsubber — Pen — Pen — ” 

“ Penwiper,” some one suggested. 

“ — the Pen — alarm — motive system,” Billy 
concluded triumphantly, amid much cheering and 
laughter. 

“What kind of a wrinkle is this?” some one 
asked. 

Harry grabbed the aeroplane, as Penfield got 
down, and taking a bottle from his pocket, doused 
the spring and wheels with kerosene oil. “ Trot 
over, Pen, old boy,” he said. “ Good luck to you ! ” 
The little fellow, smiling nervously, carried the 
dripping model over to the line. The crowd eyed 
him and his odd-looking monoplane with good- 
natured indulgence. One or two taunts were heard, 
but most of the spectators laughed amiably. 

“ What’s that, an ice-wagon ? ” said Garret, who 
stood near the line, holding his own trim little craft. 
“ Keep still. Garret ! ” said another boy. 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


379 


Let her go ! ” said another. 

Any one could see that the hand which held the 
machine was trembling nervously. The boy looked 
back toward the touring car for Harry, who smiled 
back reassuringly. He would not for the world 
have had Penfield know that he felt any doubt. 

The little monoplane darted from Pen’s hand, 
silently. He watched it intently as it rose, plowing 
its way forward. At a distance of, perhaps, two 
hundred feet its propeller slowed down. 

‘‘ That’s better than I thought,” some one said. 

For the fraction of a second it fluttered and its 
rear end settled, as if to sink. Then a strange thing 
happened. There was a sudden clicking sound in 
the air, and the crude little monoplane darted for- 
ward and upward, making a bee line for the cupola 
of the clubhouse. Up it went, shaking, but rising 
steadily. The crowd was too dum founded to cheer. 
It cleared the cupola and disappeared. And when 
Billy, followed by a score or more of curious and 
excited spectators, picked it up more than six hun- 
dred feet from the starting point, it began to buzz 
spasmodically, as if it had forgotten all about its 
aerial mission and were bent on waking some tired 
sleeper. 

“ What under the sun is that, anyway ? ” asked a 
gentleman, pushing his way into the crowd. ‘‘I 
never saw such a thing in my life ! ” 

“It’s guaranteed to go for ten minutes if you 


38 o 


BOY SCOUTS 


don’t get up and stop it,” answered Penfield. ‘‘ It 
came out of a patent alarm clock.” 

When Penfield went home that day, he proudly 
bore in his hands the silver cup. 

‘‘ Harry,” said Dr. Brent, as they wandered from 
the field, ‘‘ I believe you’re more excited than when 
you won the boat-race — you’re all worked up.” 

Oh, no. I’m not,” said Harry, smiling. 

** I bet Harry goes in his blue shirt,” said Mac, 
a week later. ‘‘ You’d better trot up the hill, 
G. Lord, and use your influence with him. Tell him 
Miss Crosby went up in the Danforth’s auto from 
the 3 130.” 

That wouldn’t feaze him,” said Morrel. 

“I bet he doesn’t show up at all,” suggested 
Tom. ‘‘He’s afraid somebody will offer him a 
prize.” 

“ Honest, I wish I were like that fellow,” said 
Matthew Reed, earnestly. “ He isn’t afraid of any- 
thing in the world except being praised.” 

“ He looked like a regular coward when Red 
Deer was telling Mr. Wade about the glider feat,” 
commented Roy. 

“ Kid says it took Mr. Dan forth about five min- 
utes to size him up.” 

“ It took him only one minute,” corrected Gordon. 

“ He’ll kill us when he hears of that letter we all 
signed.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 381 

Well/’ concluded Roy, as Red Deer says, he 
was just born that way; he can’t help it.” 

“ It’s great to have a character like that,” Mac 
added. ‘‘ Everybody seems to catch a little of it.” 

He’s all to the good, is Harry boy.” 

Only he doesn’t know much about maidens,” 
said Gordon. 

‘‘ Well, I guess I’ll toddle over home and fix up,” 
said Matthew. “ See you to-night.” 

It was a large audience that gathered in the Town 
Hall to see and hear the well-known gentleman rep- 
resenting the National Scout Council, whose visit to 
Oakwood had been duly heralded in the Oakwood 
press. But they were not gathered wholly to hear 
him, either, for Oakwood was proud of its scout 
troop. The wholesome, cheery, chivalrous, khaki- 
clad boys who flitted about her shaded streets were a 
part of her local charm. If there is any one who 
is not attracted by Boy Scouts, he must be either 
blind or crazy. They have made the scout smile 
epidemic. Quietly they come and go, picking up 
your parcel for you, or opening the shop door for 
you to pass in or out. In Oakwood they had 
planted flowers along the public way. They had 
raised a flagpole on the green. They had made tall 
baskets and placed them at intervals along the 
streets for scraps of paper and other refuse. Not 
a resident of the town but had paused, smiling, in 
his walks abroad and listened to their bugle or pa- 


382 


BOY SCOUTS 


trol calls in the neighboring woods. Not a lady but 
had seen some slouch hat, cocked jauntily up at the 
side, pulled quickly off in deference to her as she 
passed. 

No wonder a line of autos stood outside the Town 
Hall that night. No wonder the Field Club dance 
had been postponed till the little flurry blew over. 

The troop sat on the stage, one patrol occupying 
each side, with chairs in the center for the scout- 
master and the members of the local council. The 
corporal of each patrol held its banner on the end of 
a scout staff. On two pedestals in the background 
were mounted a stuffed hawk and a beaver — the 
gifts of Mr. Lord. On a rustic, rough-hewn board, 
suspended above the center of the stage by ropes 
tied in the standard knots which every scout must 
know, was printed the scouts' motto, 

BE PREPARED 

Most of the boys had already taken their seats 
when Harry came quietly in and dropped into the 
chair reserved for the Beavers’ patrol leader, next 
to Corporal Greer, who held the banner staff. He 
actually wore his khaki suit. 

“ Doesn’t he look fine? ” said Tom Langford, in 
an audible whisper. 

Su — perb ! ” answered Charlie, turning. 

‘‘Harry, your beautiful, willowy form — ” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


383 


“ Keep still, will you ! ” said Harry. 

Say, Harry boy,'* said George Conway, leaning 
forward, do look at those girls in the second row ! 
Do, please look, Harry, they simply can’t take their 
eyes off you ! ” 

‘‘ Go on, Harry, look,” Bert Waring urged. 

The Hawk Patrol smiled significantly, across the 
stage, and Mac opened his eyes and drew a long 
breath in pantomimic admiration, which was not 
wholly lost on the audience. It was fortunate for 
Harry that Red Deer and the local council came on 
at this critical and embarrassing juncture, escorting 
the gentleman from headquarters. Both patrols 
rose, making the full salute. Then some one in the 
audience called, Three cheers for Dr. Brent ! ” 
The doctor stood, smiling and wiping his gold spec- 
tacles, while three cheers were given that made the 
rafters ring, the troop doing their full share. Then 
both patrols took their seats. 

I thank you all, heartily,” said Dr. Brent, 
scouts and audience alike, and if I could make a 
speech I would, but I am not prepared — At this, 
the whole house laughed and applauded. 

It may seem strange for a scoutmaster to have 
to stand up and make such a confession, but you will 
admit that I am not wholly deficient in the scout 
law, and that I, at least, know how to smile and look 
pleasant.” (Roars of laughter.) 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, and fellow-scouts, I have 


3^4 


BO^ SCOUTS 


had the time of my life — ” (He put on his gold 
specs and immediately took them off again. ) 
have had my reward — the privilege of being with 
these splendid boys all summer.” (Applause.) 
‘‘There is nothing coming to me.” (Voice, 
“ That’s all you know about it ! ”) “I would rather 
have these boys for friends — I would rather have 
them believe in me — than to have the friendship of 
the most influential man in the United States.” 
(Voice, “You’ve got your wish, Doctor!”) “I 
would rather have seen and heard what I have seen 
and heard this summer than to have my college 
training.” (Cheers for Red Deer.) “But I am 
not here to talk. You will be glad to know that 
three of our troop, Daniel Swift, John Walden, 
and Gordon Lord, are to be enrolled as first-class 
scouts, and Howard Brent as second-class scout. 
We are also glad to welcome Penfield Dan forth 
into the ranks of the tenderfeet. You may be 
slightly interested to know that I myself have won 
the archery badge.” (Voice, “ Bully for you. 
Doc!”) “And that Matthew Reed, our troop 
jester,” (laughter) “ is to wear the badge for marks- 
manship. I could win this badge myself if I tried.” 
(Laughter and applause.) “You all know Brick 
— er — I mean, Winfield Parks. He has used up 
every photographic film in upper New York and he 
has^a snapshot menagerie. We are going to give 
him the stalker’s badge to keep him quiet.” (Ap- 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


38s 


plause.) ‘‘You all know Ki — that is, Gordon 
Lord. He is good to take three times a day, after 
meals, especially if you have the blues.” (Broad 
scout smile from Gordon.) I have been author- 
ized by the committee of awards of the National 
Scout Council to tender to Gordon Lord the bronze 
medal. This medal is given for helping to save or 
preserve life. Those of you who have read the 
history of our troop’s summer, as printed in the local 
press, know of the circumstances which led to this 
award, and it is not necessary for me to rehearse the 
details of how this boy discovered an injured fel- 
low-scout, bleeding and unconscious, in a ditch, 
bandaged his wounds in the darkness of night, and 
sent him aid. If he had not discovered the boy and 
sent help to him, the injured scout would have died 
— there is little doubt of that. I am glad, Gordon,” 
he said, that you have passed the first-class tests, 
for it makes the awarding of this badge possible. 
Come here, my boy.” 

Gordon never looked quainter, more original, 
more jaunty, than when he stepped forward to re- 
ceive the badge. There was not a person in the 
hall but smiled to see his round head cocked side- 
ways and looking up at Red Deer. He wore a 
brand-new scout suit in honor of the occasion, and 
as he waited he gave his stocking just the sugges- 
tion of a hitch, which brought down the house. 

As the audience burst into applause and laughter. 


386 


BOY SCOUTS 


Gordon joining in charming bewilderment at the 
great hit he was making, the national councilman 
beckoned to him and cordially shook his hand. He 
was so delightfully confused when he went to take 
his seat that he marched plunk into the Hawk Patrol, 
to the great amusement of the Beavers opposite. 
It was too late to correct his mistake; the Hawks 
hung on to him and there he sat wedged between 
Mac and Til ford Morrel, who glared triumphantly 
at their brother scouts across the stage. 

Then Red Deer introduced the gentleman repre- 
senting the award committee of the National Coun- 
cil. He was a very well-known man, and the Oak- 
wood people greeted him enthusiastically. 

‘‘ Ladies and gentlemen, and scouts,’’ he said, 
the sight of this genial audience watching and ap- 
plauding these fine boys and their beloved scout- 
master was worth coming a long way to see. It is 
easy to understand why they worship him and why 
he is proud of them — why you are all proud of the 
scouts and their leader. I thank you for giving me 
such a welcome, but I am not here to make a speech. 
Rather, will I speak to you in the words of others, 
for I bring back to you words which have come to 
us from your own town. And I am to perform a 
duty which cannot be performed by your scoutmas- 
ter. It is a duty which I am not accustomed to, as 
it has only twice been performed before in this 
country. The National Council is in receipt of a 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


387 


letter signed by all you boys save one,” he went on, 
turning to the troop, “ but the action which you re- 
quested had been already decided upon. You are 
acquainted with Mr. E. C. Wade, scoutmaster of 
the I St Albany Troop.” (Applause from the boys.) 
“ A letter of similar purport was received from 
him, signed by every member of his three patrols.” 
(*' Vile redcoats ! ” Mac whispered in Gordon’s ear.) 

Harry looked about, puzzled. Charlie Greer 
pounded him on the knee, and winked across at the 
Hawks’ corporal. 

The little flurry of excitement among the troop 
was abruptly ended by the councilman’s next words. 

A complaint has been received against one of your 
number,” said he. A dead silence prevailed. Even 
Red Deer took off his glasses and stared. Then he 
smiled. 

“ The National Council is in receipt of a letter 
signed by a name which cannot be ignored, a name 
which is widely known in the realm of commercial 
enterprise and of public charity. It appears that 
one member of your troop has occasioned this gen- 
tleman a considerable anpoyance.” You could have 
heard a pin drop, as he unfolded a typewritten let- 
ter and read: 

‘‘ Gentlemen : 

On the 29th day of June, of this year, 
a boy of your organization — Harry Arnold by 


388 


BOY SCOUTS 


name — living in Oakwood, N. J., rescued my little 
son from drowning in Lake Champlain. He ap- 
peared to deprecate his performance and refused a 
trifling reminder of my gratitude on the ground of 
some law which he says governs your members. I 
understand that this same code of by-laws requires 
strict obedience to superiors. Will you kindly cor- 
rect what, I am sure, must be an erroneous concep- 
tion of his duty in this particular matter, and have 
the proper authorities instruct him that it is his duty 
to accept the trifling gift which I offered. I will add 
that the gift was not of money. 

The saving of my son’s life and his subsequent 
acquaintance with his rescuer has brought great hap- 
piness into a rather frail little life, which has not 
escaped the notice of two anxious parents, and the 
whole occurrence has directed my interest to the 
organization which can produce or at least bring 
such boys to the front. It has been the greatest 
pleasure of my summer sojourn in the country to 
fall in with this boy, to watch his activities, and to 
talk with him (to say nothing of his interesting com- 
panion). He is in all ways a splendid, noble boy, 
and it is gratifying to think what a man such a boy 
will make. 

‘‘It has occurred to me that many of the com- 
panies of scouts in this part of the country are less 
favored by fortune than the troop to which this boy 
belongs, and that they lack the advantages which a 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


389 


rural life affords. The country where these Oak- 
wood boys have spent their summer is healthful and 
historic. If the gentlemen interested in your very 
worthy enterprise are disposed to accept some testi- 
monial of my good wishes and interest, I should be 
pleased to talk with them as to the idea of erecting 
a pavilion with grounds and all camping facilities, 
suitably endowed, where troops of these less fortu- 
nate Boy Scouts may camp. 

I shall be glad to arrange some plan by which a 
summer outing, transportation, etc., included, might 
be made feasible for many companies of boys where 
the same is not possible now, and I should like the 
name of this particular boy to be identified in some 
way with it. 

‘‘ Awaiting your views upon the matter, I beg to 
remain, 

‘‘ Very sincerely yours, 

‘‘ R. E. Danforth.” 

Every eye was upon Harry as the gentleman re- 
folded the letter, and he was blushing scarlet. 
Charlie Greer, sitting next him, patted his shoulder, 
saying, ‘‘ You’ll have to stick it out, old man.” 
Harry’s nervous, embarrassed glance caught Gor- 
don among the Hawks opposite, who was grinning 
with delight and satisfaction. Then the audience 
broke into applause, and some enterprising enthusi- 
ast called for Mr. Dan forth. This started the ball 


390 


BOY SCOUTS 


rolling. They dragged him down the aisle to the 
stage. Red Deer was there to haul him up, aided 
by the sturdy warriors of the local council. He 
emerged from the tumult into the center of the 
stage, somewhat the worse for his experience and 
rather abashed to be brought into such prominent 
notice, but with a genial smile on his wrinkled face. 
They tried to make him speak, but he laughed and 
shook his head. So they ordered him into one of 
the vacant chairs among the local councilmen. And 
there he sat, with a genial twinkle in his shrewd 
eyes, his scanty gray locks shining under the electric 
lights. 

Then the speaker asked Harry Arnold to stand. 
It looked for a moment as if there were going to be 
no response — a kind of awkward suspense. Then 
he rose, holding the back of his chair with one 
hand, as if he would resume his seat the first minute 
he got a chance. Roy Carpenter, leader of the 
Hawks, made a motion and every member of both 
patrols rose. This was too much for Harry. In a 
kind of daze he saw the councilman holding a small 
plush box. He saw the Hawk Patrol opposite, 
standing with their hands raised in the full salute. 
He caught the glitter of Red Deer’s spectacles. He 
saw Mr. Danforth smiling at him. He felt a hand 
on his shoulder from behind. “ Brace up, Harry 
boy,” whispered Tom Langford; ‘Ht’s only a min- 
ute.” 


ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN 


391 


‘‘ Come here, my boy,” he heard, and stepped for- 
ward reluctantly, standing before the speaker with 
a kind of bewildered, startled expression, with one 
hand against his hip in an attitude that was char- 
acteristic of him. 

“My boy, you have heard this gentleman’s let- 
ter. It is said of him that he is very good at read- 
ing character. That letter was answered, others 
were passed, and his generous, big-hearted offer has 
been accepted. A great good turn has been done to 
the Boy Scout organization. In summers to come, 
many poorer boys will enjoy the freedom of the 
open woods ; many troops from the heat and turmoil 
of the great cities will be taken to the beautiful 
country whence you have lately returned, to track 
and stalk and study nature ; and they must thank not 
only this kindly gentleman, but you who gave him 
the incentive. 

“ He has asked you to receive a gift at his hands 
in grateful acknowledgment of a deed of heroism. 
This you saw fit to decline. We have told him that 
your own will must govern this case. There is no 
reason why you should not, under the peculiar cir- 
cumstances, accept his gift, my boy. Your scout- 
master hopes that you will do so. I hope you will 
do so. But we cannot order you to accept. Per- 
haps you have some friend, learned in the scout law, 
who will influence you.” (Side glances at Gordon 
from the troop.) 


392 


BOY SCOUTS 


“ There sits among your patrol now the boy 
whose life you saved. Among those other boys ” 
(indicating the Hawks) ‘Hhere sits another boy 
whose life you saved at imminent hazard of your 
own. I will not embarrass you by rehearsing the 
circumstances. Your whole summer has been filled 
with exhibitions of resource, with credit and honor. 
Your fellow-scouts have asked that you be awarded 
the highest honor we can give you. There is an 
award, my boy, the highest possible award for serv- 
ice and heroism, which may be granted to a scout 
who has saved life at the greatest risk to himself. 

‘‘ I have come here, Arnold, to award to you this 
medal, the Golden Cross. It is the highest testi- 
monial you may win, the highest that any scout may 
win.’^ 

As he spoke, a white ribbon glittered in his hand. 
This he pinned on Harry’s right breast. It formed 
a spotless, snowy background for a golden cross 
with the full badge of the scouts superimposed 
upon it. 

Red Deer stepped forward and grasped Harry’s 
hand. And it was plain to see why the boy had 
stood slightly turned from the audience, for his eyes 
glistened. He shook hands with them all as they 
crowded about, delighting to honor him, but he was 
too overcome to speak. Brick Parks pushed Swift 
and Waring aside, landing a cordial pound on 
Harry’s shoulder. Gordon worked his way in and 
grabbed both his hands. 





